#i should make something to take to the office on tuesday but that entirely depends on when drain cleaning is done on monday

[six-of-ravens]

i feel like I've been very un-halloween-y recently. last time i did anything spooky was when i watched the blair witch project 2 weeks ago. haven't made anything pumpkin-y since then either (that pumpkin ravioli was so good tho).

#maybe ill get around to watching a movie tonight #also maybe ill make something pumpkiny if i don't have to go to the store for ingredients #october got away from me lol #i should make something to take to the office on tuesday but that entirely depends on when drain cleaning is done on monday #side note this would've been the perfect day to make my chilli but i did not think ahead and get groceries this morning lol

[weasleywinchester]

Slow Motion - Ch.4

My World is Standin’ Still

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

Who am I updating two fics on the same day?? Hope y’all enjoy this chapter, we get a little serious, a little steamy and a whole lotta cute 💙 enjoy!

Series Summary:

I mean, love at first sight has to exist for some people. Guess you’re one of the lucky ones. Bob had said it so nonchalantly. Like it was a thing that could, did, happen in real life. And yet here he was, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, falling for you faster than his plane could take off. But even if everything felt slow motion, was it possible the two of you were moving too fast?

Chapter Summary:

First dates: that thing most people fret about so much they get nervous. But for you and Bradley it’s just something that needs to get out of the way. This feeling like you were made to be together only gets stronger by the day, but it seems like the universe needs you to stand still before you can take off.

We have a smut warning for this one 👀 (hand job, both receiving)

A Week Later

Tuesday

“Talk to me Phoenix.” Mav excitedly whispers as he catches Phoenix walking down the hall. He was so excited when Bradley wasted no time in planning the perfect first date. 

“Rooster had to cancel.” She sighs, opening the door and gesturing for Mav to walk ahead.

“What, why?” He turns to face her, walking backwards down the hall.

“We had to do a diagnostic flight. It took way longer than we thought.” She hands her paperwork off to an officer passing by and gestures for Mav to follow.

“How’d she take it?” He gently puts his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes for any hidden answers. Phoenix opens her mouth to answer when Bob walks over.

“She’s totally fine. They got another reservation at a different place for tonight. So, fingers crossed.” He nods.

“Rooster was pretty upset. He had the whole thing mapped out. And he apparently pulled every card he could to get the reservation.”

Mav nods in agreement; dinner at a fancy restaurant by the beach, new suite and a giant bouquet of flowers in your favorite color. Rooster had even roped him into helping clean the Bronco spotless so it was a worthy first date car.

“Small hiccup. It’s the first date, they’ll mosty remember the feelings, not necessarily how fancy the place was.” Mav shrugs it off. “It’s not like lightning strikes twice.

_______

Wednesday

“Bob.” Mav shakes the WSO by the shoulders, his grin wide at the excitement of hearing how your date went.

“Red had to cancel this time.” He sighs. “How do you not get this information from them?” He laughs at Mav’s disappointed look.

“Been helping Penny at the bar. Also afraid that if I ask too much I won’t get any of the good details.”

“The entire time Red’s been here she has never been trapped in a meeting!” Phoenix exclaims as she walks up to the pair.

“How did she get stuck in a meeting? She's the queen of leaving on time, no matter what.” Mav asks. Your philosophy is that you’ll work overtime during an audit, a huge deadline on a project and before major holidays, that’s it.

“Admiral’s putting her on the project we were all called in for.” Bob answers. Mav and Phoenix share a knowing look; you’d do anything to work with the group.

“Well, at least they’ll be on the same work schedule.” Mav smiles. “And Bradley didn’t come home last night…”

“And he wasn’t in the barracks.” Phoenix laughs. They are falling so hard for each other.

“They’re trying again tonight.” Bob smiles, showing the text from you.

“They act like their life depends on this date…” Phoenix shakes her head, letting out a small laugh.

“Think they just want the first date jitters to be over.” Mav smiles.

_______

Thursday

“If you feel like you can’t keep a clear head on this mission…”

“Admiral, I’ll be fine. If anything, it'll make me work harder.” You smile, gently thumbing through the files of classified information.

“Admiral Cain should be here on monday. You think you’ll be able to have notes for us by then?” He stops in front of his office door, his face neutral but you can see he needs everything to go as smoothly as possible.

“I’ll start my reading tonight.” Well… maybe tomorrow morning. Actually scratch that, tomorrow evening.

“Excellent. Meeting Friday after lunch, before we bring the rest of the team in.”

Tomorrow morning reading it is then. You give him a nod, which he returns and steps into his office. You quickly return to your desk, cleaning up the mess of papers you left earlier.

“Ready?” Bradley knocks on the wall next to your desk.

“Let me send this email and sign off…” You type as fast as your fat fingers will allow and quickly gather your things.

“Ok. Let’s cross our fingers we make it this time?” You  laugh, holding both sets of crossed fingers up and Bradley does the same. 

“Made the reservation for much later this time. We got this Red.” He reassures you, both of you breaking into a smile and taking each other’s hand as you quickly bolt to your cars. The drive seems faster than the last three days, whether that be from the speed you both drove or the lighter traffic… who knows.

“Ooo! I almost forgot.” You shout as both of you get out of your cars. You grab a box off the workbench and hand it to him. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as he carefully slides the lid off.

He smiles down at the garage remote nestled in the box with a note: Left side reserved for Captain America.

“I know we’ve just started dating, but considering we’ve been living at work I thought this would be easier for you to just park the Bronco in the garage. No need to worry about street cleaning or trash day.” You shrug. You don’t want it to feel like it’s a big deal, because it honestly feels totally normal, like when you gave Mav a house key.

“Wow...” He smiles at the remote, gently taking it out. He clicks the button and the garage door starts sliding shut. “No house key?” He shoots a grin at you.

“How about we go on a date first?” You wrap your arms around his middle, tilting your  face toward him.

“That’s fair.” He chuckles, pressing his lips to yours.

“Get dressed… very quickly.” You giggle as you pull away; he hums in agreement, keeping his arms firmly around you as you unlock the door to the house and shuffle the two of you inside. You run to your bedroom and Bradley runs to the guest room. You told him to just leave his stuff here since you weren’t sure when this date would actually happen. And since you both had to be at work at the same time this week, he might as well just stay here. Unfortunately you both have just ended up falling asleep on the couch instead of making it anywhere near a bed. Date, focus on the date first (Y/N). You shake off all the negative energy from the week and walk out into the living room.

“What do you think?” You twirl so he can see a 360 view. You’d had this dress sitting in your closet begging to be worn for something fancy (which you hardly ever did anything fancy), but it makes you feel perfect and judging by the way Bradley is looking at you, it was very much true.

“Babe you look-“ you both frown as his cell starts blaring. He glances down at it and sighs.

“Admiral.” He says curtly into the phone. He gives a few small nods before his eyes shift to you. “Yes sir. Right away.” He hangs up and walks over to you.

“Beautiful.” He finishes his original sentence, gently putting his hands on either side of your neck and pulling you into a kiss..

“You have to go to work?“ You mumble as your phone starts ringing and you quickly answer.

“Admiral.” You nod just the same as Bradley. When you hang up you give him a sad frown.

“Looks like we both get to go back to work, again.” You place your hands on his chest and sigh.

“Can I hitch a ride?” He chuckles, placing a kiss on your temple. “The Bronco looks too nice in its new spot to move it.”

“Ya. And we better change.” You grab him by the lapels of his jacket and press your lips to his for a few seconds before playfully pushing him off. 

“Wasn’t expecting your lipstick to taste so good Red.” He chuckles, his lips chasing after yours. 

“Get dressed Bradshaw.” You push him towards the guest room as you head back to yours.

______

“We’re late.” Your curse under your breath as you both walk through the door to find everyone there. Rooster can feel everyone’s eyes looking both of you up and down.

“Did we interrupt something?” Admiral Simpson asks, eyeing your hair and makeup.

“Yes, but-” you habitually say, instantly regretting it.

“No Sir.” Rooster says a little louder than you.

“No sir.” You correct, giving the admiral an apologetic nod; you and he have had a good back and forth banter, but sometimes you forget he’s your boss and an admiral .

“Sorry for the inconvenience. Wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important.” He says quietly to you.

“I know sir. Just frustrated with timing.” You nod, hoping he understands you’re ready to work.

“Everyone, this is Admiral Cain.” He gestures to the man Hangman was chatting with. All of you nod, and turn back to Simpson.

“The Admiral comes with an updated brief on our current mission. As you are all well aware, you have all been asked here because of your exceptional skills, both as individuals and as a team. Admiral Cain, we're glad you can finally join us in person and earlier than we expected.”

“Thank you Admiral Simpson.” He nods and everyone takes a seat. He begins his slide show, talking through each point on what naval intelligence has gathered.

Out of the corner of his eye Rooster sees Admiral Simpson hand you a packet. Your pen instantly starts moving as you furiously scribble notes. He looks up and catches Bob’s eye, both puzzled by the amount of scribbling you’re doing in a simple debrief.

“And that is our plan of attack. We have two months or less to prepare. We will assume less.” He nods.

The pilots all share a look, it was one thing when Maverick gave an impossible plan, but this seemed a bit out of reach, even by his standards.

“Miss (Y/L/N), thoughts?” Admiral Simpson asks.

“Permission to speak freely?” You ask Simpson, eyes shifting to Cain.

“Permission granted.” Simpson answers.

“It would be a good last resort plan.” You sigh, flipping through your packet, searching once more to see if you misunderstood something.

“It will complete the mission in the timeline we need it to.” Cain strongly states, irritation clear in his voice. Everyone can tell he’s wondering who the fuck you are to question him.

“Yes, I agree.” You state, Simpson opens his mouth to interject, but you shoot him a look. “The current plan puts the plane in a difficult position, banking on the fact that the pilots in this room won’t accidentally put the nose into the ground while inverted.” You hold your hand out for the presentation remote, which Cain begrudgingly gives you. You quickly flip back to the defense system layout, rolling the screen up so you can draw on the whiteboard behind it.

 “If there’s a S.A.M. here on this ridge, then they’ll probably be one here too.” Your marker squeaks in the silence as everyone closely pays attention. “That means your first plane will be easily struck down. And depending on how close and fast the second one is coming behind, it may result in losing the second one.” You turn to Cain waiting for his retort.

“Who are you exactly?” He asks, coming to stand a foot in front of you so he can peer down at you.

“This is Miss (Y/Full/N). She’s been working here as a flight risk analyst for a few months.” Admiral Simpson answers, giving you a silent warning about staying in line.

“Civilian. You think you know combat missions better than the people in this room?”

“No sir. That’s why my opinion has been asked for. I point out things most military personnel overlook.”

“Sometimes soldiers are lost in the line of duty; a concept you should get used to if you plan on continuing to work for the Navy.”

“Sending your soldiers into battle and expecting to lose half of them is not something I will ever be ok with.” You point the edge of your packet into his chest. “You and I, Admiral, we are the ones who die trying to get these soldiers to hit their target and come home.” 

After a moment of staring you dead in the eye he gives a small nod.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Bring Maverick in. He’s done the impossible over and over. If that plane is going to be inverted for that long, it’s going to have to be a little farther off the ground.” You sigh, looking at the white board. “Like I said, this is a good last resort. But we’re the fucking United States Navy, we will do better.”

“Very well.” Cain concedes, giving you a look of understanding.

“We will reconvene tomorrow at 0900. Get some rest everyone.” Simpson announces, showing Cain out the door. When it clicks shut you can hear someone’s chair roll and spring up as they stand.

“Damn Red, didn’t know you had it in you.” Hangman applauds, gently squeezing you to his side.

“Only for you guys.” You sigh, letting all the tension flow out of your body as you squeeze him back. 

“Or maybe when the Navy keeps screwing with your plans.” He chuckles loud enough for only you to hear. You roll your eyes at him, a smile playing on your lips as you gently shove him away. Rooster walks over and they share a nod before Hangman walks out with everyone else.

“If we hurry we might be able to change and make it to the restaurant.” He whispers. The smile is quickly back on your face as he takes your hand and guides you back to the car.

_______

“Hi, ugh, reservation is under Bradshaw.” Bradley breaths out. His lungs are on fire, but anything to make this date happen, especially after the way you stood up to Admiral Cain.

“Oh, looks like your reservation was for an hour ago…” the hostess sighs. Bradley tries to convince her to let you in, explains that you both got called to work.

Your phone buzzes and you see Bob sent a few texts.

Have fun!! Not too much fun though 😉

You roll your eyes and text him back that it looks like another day will go by without the official first date.

“No worries, we understand.” Bradley tells the hostess, backing away from the counter.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” You smile at him, lacing your fingers in his.

“I got to see you in that dress twice in one day.” He grumbles into your ear, kissing you on the cheek. Both your phones buzz, Bradley glances to see a text from Phoenix:

Meet us at the Hard Deck?

He turns to you as you turn to him.

“Hard Deck?” You ask in unison. You both laugh, making your way to the car.

_______

“Penny, can we ask you a favor?” Phoenix asks over the noise of the crowd.

“Sure. What’s up?” She looks between Phoenix and Bob.

“Rooster and Red’s date got postponed again. And the restaurant gave away their spot because they didn’t show.” Bob tells her.

“We were wondering if you could help us set up something for them right now?” Phoenix pleads.

“Now?” Penny gasps, shaking her head as she tries to figure out something.

“What about now?” Hangman squeezes between his friends, curious about what’s happening.

“Trying to do something nice.” Phoenix raises an eyebrow at him.

“Care to elaborate Bob?” Hangman’s eyes shift to him.

“Rooster and Red’s date has been canceled every day this week. We wanted to see if we could do something tonight.” He answers, ignoring Phoenix’s glare.

“Tell me what you need me to do.” He grins.

_______

“We can count this as a first date…” you suggest as Bradley opens your car door.

“If we’re going by that standard then it would be our second date.” He counters, throwing his arm around your shoulder, happy when yours wraps around his waist. “The bonfire would have been the first.”

“That means I could give you a key…” you tease. He wraps his other arm around you, giving you a squeeze as he gently shakes you around until you squeal for him to stop.

“Messed up my hair Bradshaw.” You fake pout.

“Good thing you look so beautiful all the time anyways.” He smiles back. The two of you step around the corner and Bob is waiting out front.

“Hey Bobby.” You smile.

“Sorry to hear about the restaurant.” He takes your free hand in his giving it a squeeze.

“No worries. Tomorrow’s a new day and another chance.”

“Well… maybe you don’t have to wait until tomorrow.” He smiles, gently dragging you to the side of the Hard Deck.

“Where’re we goin Bob?” Bradley chuckles. But Bob doesn’t elaborate, just leads you to a little blocked off section of the outside deck. He swings one of the room dividers out of the way to reveal a little table set for two. There’s some fairy lights strung from the dividers, creating a beautiful ambient glow.

“A table for two, at the best restaurant we know.” Bob gestures for the two of you to take a seat.

“How? When?” You giggle as Bradley helps you sit.

“When the Navy is sent on a mission, we make sure it gets done.” Phoenix answers, setting a basket of bread on the table.

“ And we can’t let the only love at first sight any of us have witnessed die down because of a little thing like a government mission.” Hangman adds, handing you both a glass of whiskey. You and Bradley look at each other and then back at your friends. How are we this lucky?

“Penny will be out with food in a minute, but we will make our exit.” Hangman grabs both Phoenix and Bob by the backs of their necks and leads them back into the bar.

“I know work has gotten in the way of everything this week…” Bradley shakes his head.

“But we also have to thank work for giving us the best friends we could hope for?” You finish.

“To family.” Bradley raises his glass.

“Both the ones related by blood, and the ones we choose.” You clink your glass to his. Penny comes out moments later with your usual order, shooting you a wink as she leaves. It may not have been the date Bradley had planned but you both quickly realized it was perfect. The stars will twinkling above, the waves of the ocean lapping at the shoreline and the bar unusually quiet for so late in the evening.

When you both were done Penny and Hangman shooed both of you away, telling you to not worry about a thing and go home. You both give them each a hug, waving to Bob and Phoenix who step outside as you walk back to your car.

“Think my car’s a bit easier to be romantic in.” Bradley chuckles, leaning across your center console to kiss you.

“I agree. Your seats are much more makeout friendly.” You mumble against his lips. Your mouths move lazily against each other until you can feel yourself falling asleep.

“Let’s get home before I knock out.” You whisper, giving him one last peck before starting the car and driving home.

When you open the garage door Bradley smiles at the sight of his bronco sitting in its new home. You both are quiet, trying to keep the dred of waking up early off as you enjoy the last bits of bliss.

“Goodnight baby.” Bradley mumbles as you stand in front of the guest bedroom.

“Goodnight.” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. Your mouths collide, moving slowly at first; his hands slowly moving away from your waist until each has a handful of your ass. He hums in delight at how soft and squishy it is, he can only imagine what it would feel like without your dress in the way. He slides his tongue into your mouth as he presses you into the wall, hiking one of your legs up onto his hip.

“Bradley.” You halfheartedly push him away. You don’t want him to stop, but you’re dead tired and the stress of tomorrow is already creeping in the back of your mind.

“Bit carried away. We’ll save that for later.” He grins, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before unwrapping himself from you.

“Goodnight.” You whisper, a dazed smile on your lips.

“‘Night Red.” He winks, walking into the guest bedroom. He listens to you pad down the hall, waiting until he hears the shower start before he moves to do the same. He sadly washes the smell of your perfume off and gets ready for bed. As he sets his alarm a soft knock comes from the door. He opens it to see you leaning against the doorway with a sleepy smile.

“You know, I barely make my own bed; and my guest room has looked so nice and clean for only a few months…”

“I can assure you I can make a bed.” He scoffs playfully, leaning against the wall so your faces are close to each other.

“I don’t doubt it.” You gently take a handful of his shirt. “But we can’t cuddle if you’re here and I’m all the way down the hall...”

“And we can’t have that.” He smiles, letting you drag him into your room. You both jump into bed, checking that alarms are set for the morning before settling under the covers.

“Come ‘ere” he whispers, patting the space next to him. You lay your head on his chest, pushing your body flush against his side. You both lay in silence, the gentle whir of the ac mixes with the muffled sound of the ocean and you can’t help but think this is perfect. Dinner was perfect, Bradley is perfect and him next to you is perfect. You can feel his breathing even out, the arm around you falling to the bed. 

“We can’t let the only love at first sight any of us have witnessed…” Hangman’s words ring in your ears. Love at first sight. It’s right here that you decide to stop wondering why it’s happening to you and to just let it sweep you off your feet. 

“I love you Bradley.” You whisper to the dark. You love him. Simple in theory, and impossible to explain.

“I love you too (Y/N).” He whispers back. You sit up so you can look at his face, well try to look at his face anyways.

“You don’t have- I don’t want to freak you out.” You can feel the panic start to rise in your chest.

“I’m not, I promise.” His hand gently cups your cheek, bringing your face to his as he sits up to meet you halfway. It’s a gentle kiss, warm and fuzzy and full of love.

______

One alarm blaring is bad enough, but two scares the daylights out of you.

“Take it easy baby.” Bradley chuckles as he quickly taps his off.

“Why is yours so loud?” You playfully whine as you shut yours off.

“Sometimes I’m dead asleep so i don't hear it. But I set it early, so we don't have to get up quite yet.” He pulls you to his chest, pressing himself flush against you.

“Dreaming about me last night.” You tease, wiggling your ass against his morning wood.

“Been dreaming about you since that night at the bar.” He mumbles into your neck, placing a string kisses down it as his hand slides under your shirt to play with your boob. He gently kneads it, pinching your nipple until it’s hardened.

“Well, that’s flattering Lieutenant.” You giggle.

“You tellin me if I reach into your underwear right now, you’re not dripping for me?” His fingers softly brush against your side, palm settling against your hip, scrunching your shorts higher and higher until his fingers reach the hem of your underwear.

“Bradley, please.” You whisper, hooking one leg over his so you’re spread open for him. His hand moves your underwear aside, cupping your mound, gently teasing the curls before running one finger through your folds.

“Fuck…” he breathes out, hips automatically bucking into your ass. His fingers start gently rubbing your bud, trying a few different things.

“Like this.” You take his hand and guide his finger around just the way you like it. Your back arches in anticipation, fingers reaching for his hair. He gently rocks against your ass, loving the way you're wrapped around him.

“Faster.” You whisper. He’s not sure if you mean his fingers or his hips so he does both, which by the moan that pushes past your lips he knows was correct. 

Your body jolts as your orgasm hits, the warmth spreading through you like hot tea on a cold winter's day. He slows his hand as he feels you relax. “Bradley…” you croak. 

“Mmhmm?” He hums against your shoulder.

“You gotta finish too.” You smile, grinding into him.

“No, I’ll be fine.” He whispers. You can tell he’s practically willing his body not to push himself over the edge, but you won’t stand for it.

“Bradley, if you don’t cum like this, I’m going to turn around and stick my hand in your pants.” You feel his smile against your shoulder but he doesn’t say anything. You roll your eyes, unhooking your leg and trapping his hand between your thighs as you flip to face him. “Or is that what you want? To cum in my hand.” You tease. He gives a nervous chuckle as your hand slides down his toned stomach to his very pronounced erection.

“What was your dream?” You whisper into the shell of his ear, your hand slowly working up and down his length. “I want to know.” You hum, kissing his neck. 

“Thought about what it would feel like to be inside y-you.” He groans as your hand picks up speed. “How pretty you’d be when I make you-“ his hips jerk into your hand and you feel the stickiness of his cum cover your palm. “-cum.” He sighs, pressing his mouth to yours. You hear his second alarm go off and unattach your lips.

“Maybe we can find out later?” You smile. He eagerly nods as the two of you get out of bed to get ready for work.

_______

Tag list:

@dilfsandtherapy

@kajjaka

@scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir

#weasleywinchester #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x plus size reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x plus size reader #rooster top gun #top gun reader insert #top gun maverick #miles teller

[sailtoafarawayland]

You’ve Always Been Home

(An Omegaverse Highschool AU)

Summary: Her entire life spent in the system, Emma has never had much support, so when things change in a way she never expected, she finds herself depending on a complete stranger to help her through it. Killian Jones hasn’t had it easy, and while most guys his age are enjoying their carefree years, he has a path he’s desperate to stay on. How will things change when he collides with someone he never saw coming?

Rating: M (see tags on AO3)

AO3 - FF

A/N:  This chapter and future chapters may contain or allude to unwanted, inappropriate behavior exhibited by an adult toward a minor. Please take this into consideration if this a trigger before reading.

Chapter 4

It wasn't until Tuesday just as he was leaving for his shift at Nemo's that Killian saw Emma again, her blonde curls and lowered head catching his eye immediately as he passed through the lobby of the building on his way out. She'd just left the library, a book clutched against her chest and her mind seemingly elsewhere. He called out her name, smiling when she stopped and spun around, her wide grin catching him by surprise and making something in his chest stir.

“Hey,” she said, tilting her head and looking up at him as he mirrored her actions, his own smile widening. “It's been a while. How's everything?”

“It feels like it, doesn't it? I'm well, but I do have something I wanted to give you, and I won't be in the rest of the week, so...”

“Is everything okay?” She stepped forward a half step, brows scrunching together at his words.

“Aye, it's just my turn for a week off, love,” he winked, unable to stop his tongue from wetting his lips at the slight blush that tinged her cheeks when she realized what he meant. He swung his backpack around his shoulder and unzipped it. “I'll be doing my last shift at the pizza place tonight, and then I'll be hunkering down at my place until its through.”

“Will you be alright?” she asked, not really sure what exactly she was asking, but knowing what he would be going through, to some extent – or maybe not.

Maybe things would be entirely different for him. Maybe he wouldn't be alone, frustrated. The thought sent a sharp stab of something she couldn't really define through her stomach.

“It's nothing I haven't managed before, Swan – and it gets easier dealing with these things as you go on, you'll see.”

“You're the expert,” she joked, blush deepening when her eyes were drawn down to what he was holding between them. “Oh! Oh, thanks, I – ”

“I wasn't sure if the health office would be doing their due diligence, seeing as your...guardian...supposedly already has an awareness – but I didn't want you to miss out on some things you should know, so I grabbed these.”

She worried the edge of the pamphlets in her hand, brow furrowing again as she looked back up at him, his own cheeks tinged with a rosy color that matched the tips of his ears.

“I can't believe you thought of that...well, I guess after last week, it shouldn't really surprise me. Look, if there's anything you need while you're, you know...” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen, grabbing his wrist and pushing up the sleeve of his leather jacket, her teeth catching her bottom lip as she scribbled her number on his arm. “I do have a cell phone – try texting next time instead of coming to the group home.”

“Ah, so you were there.”

“Yeah, I saw you from my window as you were leaving, but Neal wouldn't have let you in to see me, so I figured I'd just catch you at school...”

“Emma, am I right in thinking he's the one that makes you uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. He's harmless, I just...this is all so new to me and last week I just wanted to be somewhere I felt safe,” she shrugged, suddenly embarrassed that the only place her body had craved was the apartment of a guy she'd just met – that her life was so messed up she didn't even have a real home, or real people that cared about her.

“Hey, don't do that,” Killian whispered, resting his arm gently on her shoulder and making her meet his eyes once more.

“Do what?”

“Act like what you feel doesn't matter – it does, and as I said before, Swan, my door is always open for you. Do you mind if I ask...did he say anything, or do anything when you didn't return that night?”

“No, I don't even think he knew I'd left. House parents aren't allowed on the second floor with the teenagers' bedrooms. As soon as I realized he was going to be there for a double shift, I locked myself in my room and climbed out the window an hour or two later,” she explained, startling as the bell rang behind them, Killian's hand falling from her shoulder and back to his side. “Even if he'd caught me though, he probably would have just warned me about the rules. He's always going on about rules and repercussions – everything has a price.”

She rolled her eyes, hearing the way Neal always said them in the back of her head.

A cold fist of dread curled in Killian's stomach at her words and cavalier dismissal of the behavior one of the few adults in her life was displaying. He hadn't exactly had the best father, and maybe because of that, he knew a threat when he heard one. He wondered if Swan didn't sense the same danger lurking beneath the man as he did, but he didn't want to frighten her, not now – not when he couldn't be there to pick up the pieces.

“Sounds like you should get to class, Swan,” he sighed, wishing he didn't have to leave, or that he'd managed to find time to see her the day before. “I won't see you this week, so just take care of yourself, alright?”

“Aye aye,” she teased, wondering where he'd picked up the phrase, if it was a brit thing, or just a Killian thing, “and if you need anything – a run to the store, or whatever, just let me know. You did so much for me and...you're not alone, Killian. Friends, yeah?”

“Of course,” he smiled, but it was tense and his gut twisted knowing just how he was going to be thinking of her during the next week – and it certainly wasn't as friends. “I'll see you soon though.”

“Text me,” she reminded him, heading down the hall.

He nodded, friends would have to be enough.

//

Emma's backpack slumped to the bed, the edge of the pamphlets Killian had given her peeking from the top. She'd take a look at them later once Tamara got in for the evening and she knew she would have the rest of the night unbothered. Tamara preferred to spend most of her time on the phone with her boyfriend, only paying attention to Emma and the other older kids if there was some sort of emergency. Neal on the other hand, he was always lingering around a corner. He didn't seem to care much for the younger kids, or bother with them at all other than taking care of meals, but it seemed no matter where Emma was, he always had a reason to be nearby.

It was unsettling, but honestly, she'd been in group homes that were worse. This one wasn't so bad outside of Neal, and she'd already been here for a while. If she could just toe the line and not upset anyone, Storybrooke didn't seem like the worst town to age out in.

Her thoughts drifted back toward her conversation with Killian earlier, and thoughts of him inevitably drew her eyes over to the small dresser that was hers. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought about the knotting toy that was tucked away beneath a pile of shirts. The memory of how it had felt made her cheeks burn. She'd never felt more aware of her body than when she'd finally slipped all of it inside of her – something about her heat had pushed her beyond any sort of embarrassment or uncertainty, leaving her to just focus on how right it felt. It had been freeing, and after that her heat had gotten a lot easier.

Killian had been more considerate in the short time he'd known her than anyone else she'd met, and she felt a little bad. She'd have to find out how much the toy had cost and pay him back.

Getting a job would have helped, but for some reason, it was against the group home policy – something about focusing on schoolwork and not allowing minors out unsupervised in close situations with other adults, so she had only a small allowance she was allowed to receive, and no idea how much she even owed Killian.

Probably more than she had.

“Hey, Ems, how was school?”

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Neal's voice so close behind her, the hair on her neck standing on end and an unpleasant shiver rippling along her body that made her want to step quickly away. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned and smiled tightly. She didn't want to give him any reason to be upset with her, to risk getting kicked out of the home – not now that she was just starting to feel something for this place, or at least like maybe she wasn't so alone here.

“Fine,” she shrugged, uncomfortable with the way he hovered in her doorway, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, fixing her with a strange look. “Was there anything you needed?”

“Actually, yeah, there is,” he admitted, yanking a hand free and stroking the patch of hair on his chin, “there was a guy that stopped by the house the other day. You know you're not supposed to invite people over, Emma – me and Tamara, we're responsible for all you guys here, and we can't just have strangers coming around. There's small kids here, you know.”

“I didn't invite anyone over,” she hesitated, knowing exactly who he was talking about. She'd been waiting for it to come up. Honestly, she was surprised it had taken so much time. “Who was it?”

“Didn't leave his name – tall guy, dark hair, wore a lot of black? He didn't look like the type of guy you should be hanging out with, Ems.”

“Honestly, Neal, I don't know anyone who – oh! That must have been Dana's brother. She's been out sick and mentioned her brother would stop by to pick up the extra notes I took for her last week.”

Neal nodded slowly, his frown lessening and gaze softening, though the few steps he took into her room did nothing to ease Emma's discomfort. His hands found there way back into his pockets as he leaned to the side, peering around her space.

“Do you have them then?”

“Have them...the notes? I do, yeah. Is he here for them now?”

“No, no one's here,” Neal smiled, “but I'd be happy to put them downstairs in case he stops by again.”

“Yeah, that's great, thanks,” Emma muttered, happy to put a little more distance between them as he sauntered further into her room, his eyes sweeping over everything.

She lifted her bag from the bed, relieved when the pamphlets slid back inside where they were safely hidden. Her fingers closed around a packet of notes she'd copied earlier in the week – not that Dana needed them, or had even spoken more than once to Emma, but she knew how Neal was, and that sooner or later he would come asking about Killian. The last thing she wanted was for him to be suspicious.

“Here.”  

She passed the small, paper-clipped stack to him with as much of a smile as she could muster.

“Next time let me know, Emma, if someone's going to be around. I need you to be honest with me, okay – so I can look out for you. That's my job.”

Any response she might have had caught in her throat and she could only nod, her stomach turning violently. She didn't want him looking out for her. She didn't even want him thinking about her. As much as she wanted to run, there was nowhere to go and she found herself standing very still as she waited.

He lingered for another second, still half in her doorway, not seeming to want to really leave. Her heart thumped in her chest – he wasn't even supposed to be up here, let alone in her room. It was way against the rules he always went on about.

Needing him gone, she turned and busied herself with taking her shows off, her fingers moving tremulously along her laces as she waited to hear his footsteps recede down the hall.

He'd always been odd, Neal, invested in a way that made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know it was suddenly worse. Ever since that night he worked a double and she'd come back from Killian's with every inch of her skin permeated by her heat cycle. Since then he'd escalated, finding more reasons to check on her, and now even coming into her room when he wasn't supposed to.

She couldn't say her room had ever felt like home, but after that night, it had started to feel like a trap – and even now, her heat safely passed, her mind couldn't help but wander to the warm safety of Killian's home on the other side of town.

Tagging:  @justanother-unluckysoul​ @kmomof4​  @the-darkdragonfly​  @teamhook​  @zaharadessert​ @xarandomdreamx   @jrob64​  @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @tiganasummertree  @pirateprincessofpizza​  @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever  @alifeofdreams  @superchocovian​   @donteattheappleshook​ @hollyethecurious​   @caught-in-the-filter   @snowbellewells​  @itsfabianadocarmo  @stahlop​  @karlyfr13s​ @elizabeethan​  @rkrbirdgirl  @batana54​  

#captain swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #sailtoafarawayland #emma and hook #omegaverse #alpha/omega #You've always been home #high school au

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes. 

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody. 

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously. 

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly. 

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before. 

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?” 

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake. 

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation. 

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.” 

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy. 

---

Day 1 

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s. 

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut. 

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank. 

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing. 

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth. 

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side. 

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily. 

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded. 

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.” 

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up. 

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat. 

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door. 

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life. 

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower. 

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand. 

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously. 

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered. 

 Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away. 

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps. 

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively. 

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips. 

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?” 

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them. 

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?” 

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him. 

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight. 

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win. 

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it. 

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk. 

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice. 

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos. 

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer. 

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. 

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign. 

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused. 

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it. 

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck. 

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts. 

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.” 

“Fair.” 

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on. 

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours. 

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road. 

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?” 

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby. 

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.” 

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year. 

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.” 

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room. 

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird. 

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion. 

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said. 

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing. 

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

 Day 3

 The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown. 

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it. 

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison. 

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously. 

“I liked the long necks.” 

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach. 

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?” 

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?” 

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat. 

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline. 

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan. 

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15. 

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?” 

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.” 

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously. 

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world. 

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game. 

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin. 

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back. 

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them. 

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away. 

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his. 

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle. 

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it. 

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that. 

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches. 

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously. 

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand. 

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?” 

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side. 

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

 Day 4

 The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona. 

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off. 

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim. 

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.” 

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.” 

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.” 

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night. 

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded. 

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky. 

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him. 

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.  Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything. 

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

[pinkanonwrites]

love me, please love me

Akaashi x Reader

Happy belated Valentine's day! I wanted to write a bittersweet piece for the occasion, but I caved right at the end and made it 100% sweet instead. Basically Akaashi is a delight and I wanted to see him pine, and pine hard. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

(also the song title is from a song of the same name by Michel Polnareff, which I highly recommend listening to in order to get that yearning vibe)

Akaashi had already decided by himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Sure, there would always be details and characters and overarching, more interesting plot to work out, but the overall premise was always the same. Two characters with undeniable chemistry, kept from admitting their true feelings because of Person X or Situation Y, rinse and repeat misunderstandings and 'almosts' until the manga was ready to end. Maybe even leave room afterwards for a cute, episodic spin-off.

Easy.

The real world, however, rarely offered such simplicities.

For example, Akaashi was in love with an office worker whose desk was once across from his, and he was pretty sure they didn't even know his name.

It's not like he'd known he was going to fall for you. How could he have? There was no chorus of angels, no heavenly light from above as the world seemed to fall into slow-motion. No. On his first day in the office you had been late, stumbled in with messy hair and a haphazard stack of manuscripts that you smacked down onto your desk, and had nearly tipped your overfull coffee mug all over the floor. He could hardly call it a good first impression. And yet…

The other workers on your floor seemed to hold you in a very high regard. He'd barely been there a week when one of his concerns had been directed to your desk.

"Ah, excuse me. Takaoda-san told me you could help with this?"

Your attention snapped up from your screen to Akaashi and the folder tucked in his hands. Noticeably confused for a split second, it took a moment before realization dawned on you.

"Oh! You're the guy who just joined! Kashi-san, right? Yeah, I can help you with that!"

You didn't even give him time to correct your butchering of his name.

Not only had you solved his problem, you'd scooted your chair to the side a bit and motioned for him to drag his own over and seat himself beside you, carefully walking him through the entire process.

"There you are! I'll just email this over to you so you have the file on your computer then."

"Yes, thank you very much."

"No problem! If you have any more questions, I'd be happy to help you out."

Your kindness, it seemed, extended to the other members of your office floor as well. Not a day would go by without Akaashi seeing at least one person hunkered down beside you at your desk in various states of disarray, waiting for your kind and composed words to soothe their frazzled minds. Clearly you were a cherished member of this office.

He was sure that the warm stirrings beginning in his chest were no more than admiration at that point.

Mostly sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As his status with the editing company and his understanding of the industry began to rise, Akaashi was swiftly moved up to higher departments and higher pressures, longer meetings and tighter deadlines. He no longer spent as much time on the main floor where he'd started. But he still noticed you.

You'd been the first on the floor to cheer for him when it was announced that he'd be moving to his own private office. You patted him on the back and wished him well with a big, bright smile that made his stomach do something funny he tried to ignore. Occasionally you bumped into each other in the elevator, the break room, in meeting rooms as clusters of overworked people filed in and out.

And sometimes, on darkened evenings when he was leaving the building in the dead of night, he'd see you still sat at your desk. Alone in the office space, you continued to tap away at your keyboard. He'd never considered that for all the time you spent helping others with their problems, that was time unspent solving your own.

"Kashi-san?"

He faltered a bit under your tired gaze, lurking in the doorway of the floor, having finally caught your eye. He didn't even remember to correct you, again.

It didn't matter that much, though. Not when his body was already moving without him thinking, standing at the side of your desk and placing the canned coffee he'd just bought from the vending machine on its corner.

"It's almost 10. I'm surprised you're still here."

You blinked, then laughed, a sweet melodic tune. The coffee clutched in both hands, you looked up at him so sweetly that his heart hammered in response.

"Yeah, there's a lot to get done."

"Please be sure not to overwork yourself. You're a vital piece of this company."

I will, thank you… Hey, have you eaten?"

He startled, checking his watch. "N-Not since lunch."

"Let's grab something. My treat. Consider it a thanks for the coffee."

"Ah… if you insist."

Not that he needed much insistence.

And so began a comfortable pattern as late night dinners between the two of you became all the more common. It was rare that a week went by that didn't end a long and tiring day with ramen in a cozy booth, or snack foods scarfed down outside a 24-hour convenience store, your smiling face all the warmth he needed to stave off the evening chill.

Perhaps this was where he'd first realized, when you'd held a napkin out to him to dab away the teriyaki sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth: A sudden, longing lurch to do the same, to cup your cheek gently in his hand, to run the pad of his thumb over your soft lower lip. He walked home in a daze that evening, dusted with snow and brimming with warmth and confusion.

Realistically he knew that office romances weren't uncommon. He'd read enough manga and watched enough dramas to know that. And yet, he couldn't shake the concern so easily. What if your bosses found out? What would your co-workers think?

...What if it didn't work?

The only glimpses of yourself he'd gotten outside of a workplace environment were those short, shared meals. How could that be enough to judge whether you two were really meant to work well together? Was it worth risking the fallout?

No. Certainly not. Not for a silly crush. Akaashi could wait this out, he should wait this out. Keep his distance and wait until the butterflies faded and the fires died and he was left with the same feelings he'd felt for you in the beginning, appreciation and the occasional concern.

He would be fine.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the dawn of week three of minimizing contact with you, Akaashi Keiji was decidedly not fine.

He hadn't realized how dependent he'd become on your presence until it was unceremoniously torn away from him. Is a grown man meant to crave another person's voice so much? Their smile? Their laugh? He felt like a schoolboy again, flustered and frustrated and brimming over with emotions he wasn't sure how to outlet.

On Tuesday morning you'd come in early, clearly dressed for a date. Takaoda confirmed his suspicion a moment later when he complimented your outfit.

"I've got a blind date tonight, actually."

The butterflies in Akaashi's stomach choked and died, falling like stones into the pit of his gut. He nearly shocked himself with the single word that screamed across his rushing mind, that he didn't dare speak aloud.

No.

He felt like a jerk. He felt like a coward. He felt like a horrible, selfish child. But when you saw him standing in the hall and lifted a hand to wave, Akaashi ducked his head and hurried to his office, pointedly and obviously ignoring your greeting.

Well done Keiji, surely they would return your feelings now.

Very little got done that day. And as the clock ticked ever and ever closer to 5pm, Akaashi knew he needed to make a choice. And he knew he needed help making it.

Lifting his cell phone, Akaashi called the one person he knew could give him an easy answer.

"Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! How are you? Aren't you at work right now?"

"Yes, Bokuto-san. However, I had an important question I was hoping you could help me with."

"Of course! Must be real big if you're calling me about it, huh?"

"Yes, it is."

Faced with the possibility of finally having an answer to his concerns, Akaashi found himself at a loss of where to start.

"Bokuto-san, have you ever had feelings for someone but weren't sure if telling them was the best idea?"

"Oho? Romance questions? Now I'm real interested!" He could hear Bokuto's big, silly grin even over the phone. "Well yeah, some of the cheerleaders are pretty hot. And you remember that guy at the ramen place who always gave me extra coupons? Pretty sure he could've been my soulmate!"

"Bokuto-san, I believe my situation is a touch more serious than a waiter who gives me extra coupons."

Bokuto maturely responded by blowing a raspberry into the receiver.

"Well, if it's that serious why haven't you asked them yourself? You've gotten this torn up about it to call me, so it must be the real deal."

"It really isn't that easy…"

"Isn't it? I mean, they either like you or they don't, right? If they do, great! If they don't, well then you can just start getting over them faster."

Akaashi found himself struggling for a reasonable response to that.

"Hey, all I can say is, you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take! Someone famous said that. Shakespeare, I think."

"Wayne Gretzky."

"Bless you."

Sighing, Akaashi glanced at his watch. You would probably be leaving soon. You might even already be out of the office. "...Thank you, Bokuto-san. If you'll excuse me, I need to catch an elevator."

"Sure thing bud! Lemme know how it goes!"

Click.

Akaashi's office door swung shut alongside the soft click of Bokuto hanging up. He skittered on the tile, trying to right himself as he sprinted around the corner, stopping only for a second at the window to the office floor. No one there.

He was probably too late already, why wouldn't you have left early on the night of your date? You worked so hard every other day, surely you would take the few extra minutes to prepare yourself. You were smart like that. Smart, and beautiful, and considerate, and there was no way Akaashi was going to just let you walk off with another man, not without even trying…

Around the corner, standing at the door to one of the elevators, there you were. Why did you look so… grim?

"Oh, hey!" You forced a smile onto your face as you gave him a little wave. "Clocking out on time? That's not like you."

Akaashi opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He tried again, clearing his throat hard.

"Oh, damn. Here."

You pressed a half-empty water bottle into his hands.

"Were you running? You're wheezing like crazy."

Staring down at the bottle in his quivering hands, his mouth moved before his mind could work.

"A date!"

You froze, finally focusing up on his face, staring so, so deeply into his eyes. Or maybe you were just looking at him normally. He could no longer tell. "Oh, yeah. I had one. He had to cancel."

The water bottle clattered to the floor as he gripped both your hands in his.

"Would you consider dinner, then?... With… me? Not like we usually do, this one's…. It's…."

Your hands were so warm. You could probably feel how sweaty his were. Gross. He should probably let you go before you got creeped out or-

"A date?"

"....Please."

A giddy, boisterous laugh bubbled out of you, one he had only heard after you'd downed a few drinks yourself. You squeezed his hands tight, giving him a smile that washed his anxieties away like chalk beneath the rain.

"I'd like that."

"Ah. Yes. Shall we go then?"

"We shall." You hooked your arm around his elbow, giving him a playful grin. "Lead the way, good sir."

Akaashi had already decided for himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Living it, though? That was much harder. But he couldn't find it in himself to mind.

"Oh! Takaoda finally told me I've been getting your name wrong this whole time? Why didn't you say anything? I feel like such a jackass!"

"There, uh, a good time to mention it never seemed to come up?"

"Well I have a lot of making up to do, don't I Akaashi?~"

"I'm looking forward to it."

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #valentines collab #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagines #long post #2100 words

[league-of-thots]

The Bee’s Knees

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

A/N: pretty happy with how this turned out! pretty nasty though so please read the warnings carefully. thanks @lady-bakuhoe for checking it over!

(sorry for double post it got fucked up on mobile :/)

Warnings: Smut, gun play, violence, dub-con, oral

taglist: @ikinabi, @redbeanteax, @marilla-eldriana, @kittykatkrissa

You’d always had a bit of a boring life. While your friends had been out at speakeasies and dancing with men and woman through the night, you’d had to take care of your little sewing shop. Repairing and making fine clothing you couldn’t afford wasn’t what you’d choose to do if you could, but it was what you had to do to keep yourself fed and safe.

You lived in a decent part of town, although that didn’t stop you from hearing gunshots every few nights between the law and the mafia. But then again, nowhere was completely safe from the mafia, especially with the bosses at the helm now. All of them were young, violent and eager to expand their territory and prove their worth, and the state of the city and surrounding areas were proof of that. But, nothing bad ever really happened to you, so you often ignored it and did what you wanted on your own time.

However, one day your entire life changed just from simply meeting Katsuki Bakugou, one of the new mafia bosses who’d come to power recently.

It had been a normal Tuesday night, except for the fact that you’d ran out of bread. Something so simple and you- albeit annoyed- went to the store despite it already being night. Getting there and getting your bread had been simple, it was getting home that had changed your life.

On a shortcut to get back to your little shop and home as quick as possible, you passed into an alleyway. Where you happened to run into three people, a blonde with his suit all messed up, someone with bright red hair and a lanky black haired man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Oh my god- they were all standing around a bloody and beaten body. You drop your purse in surprise and they all turn around sharply to face you. Not caring that you’d be leaving behind money and belongings, you run as fast as you can the opposite way, trying to get to a main street.

You hear them yelling behind you, telling you to stop but all you can think of is that they’re criminals, worst case they’re mafia, and you need to get away.

But they’re bigger, faster and stronger than you are. The red haired one catches up to you first, and he grabs your arm before you can get more than a block away. You try to scream, but as soon as your mouth opens up, his large hand prevents you from screaming and breathing too. You can hear them muttering about what they should do with you as your air supply is completely depleted and you start to black out.

You return to consciousness in perhaps the worst way possible, your headache from being choked out being exaggerated by the really loud yelling coming from a new man in front of the three you’d seen in the alleyway. You shake your head a little as you get your bearings and realize there's duct tape covering your mouth, and ropes tying your limbs to the chair you’re sat on. You begin screaming but the sound is muffled as because of the restraint covering your lips.

Two of the three glance back in your direction which seems to anger the leader who snaps in their faces and starts to yell at them.

“So you accidentally killed the mark instead of subduing them, and on top of that brought back some fucking worthless extra that now I have to find out what to do with. YOU’RE ALL MORONS. GET OUT!”

The three scurry out of the office and he kicks over a stray chair, cursing loudly and sitting behind his desk. You can’t seem to take your eyes off of him. Despite your fear and the obvious lack of self restraint and loud anger he exhibits, you notice he’s gorgeous and has a way of speaking that seems to draw people and energy towards him.

“What are you looking at extra? Hah?” He snaps at you. You just look at him wide eyed and shake your head, showing that you don’t mean anything by it. He snorts and rolls his eyes, and goes back to his paperwork.

You feel incredulous and can’t believe that, after all the fuss he just pulled he straight up ignores the fact that he has a live human captive in his office. You shook your head. How the hell were you supposed to get out of here? Your fear was starting to disappear and in its place annoyance was quickly surging up. You were tired, needed to sleep and had to wake up early tomorrow to get your shop in order. Yet you couldn’t even speak to the man because of the tape across your mouth. So you decide to grab his attention, and the first step of that was making as much noise as you could through the gag. Which unfortunately, wasn’t much. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

So you decided to make a larger uproar, and start shaking on your chair - which was great for making noise, however for staying upright, not so much. You clatter to the floor with a loud crash and let out a grunt of pain as your head hits the floor, your vision a bit blurry.

“What the fuck are you doing? Seriously?” The man in charge yells and starts stomping towards you and you wince in fear as he approaches. He pulls you and the chair upright by a firm grip on your hair, close to your scalp. At this point you’re crying from pain and a little bit of fear and embarrassment. “What do you want?” he asks, even though you can’t answer. You just look up to him with watery eyes, fucking helpless in the current situation..

He curses a bit looking at you, “You know I should just get this over and done with and kill you.” he says, almost conversationally. “You saw something you shouldn’t have and I need to tie up the loose ends of my business. Can’t be on top if we’ve gotten ratted out by a little lady y’know.” His grin is sharp, it reminds you of a wolf. Despite the situation and how close you are to death, you can’t help but be aroused by both his determined attitude and gorgeous features.

Suddenly he rips off the tape gagging you, and you let out a sob in response to the quick pain that burns around your mouth. “If you’re going to kill me, why are you playing around with me so much?” you ask, a little confused.

He just lets out a laugh. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve even been around an upstanding lady such as yourself? Your reactions to things are so refreshing, everything's new and terrifying for you.”

You can hear your heart hammering in your throat as he pulls a pistol out of his pocket and holds it up to your forehead. Your eyes cross as you desperately try to keep the muzzle in sight, even if you know that it won’t make a difference.

“I promise I won’t say anything to anyone! I just don’t want to die, I have friends, I have a job, please, please don’t kill me!” You start pleading with him and straining against the restraints on your arms and wrists, crying because these could be the last few moments of your life.

He cocks his head to the side, emotionless, staring down at you from above - the light from a lamp hits his face as it turns, lighting up his blood-red eyes. When he smiles you feel as if you’ve already signed off on your death sentence, until he starts laughing so hard he has to bend over. It’s an ugly cackle but you’re too shocked at the rapid switch in behaviour to do or say anything about it.

“Oh my god- this is actually a great opportunity, I didn’t even think about it really, but - yeah alright. I’ll give you a choice, what’s your name?” he doesn’t wait for a response. “You let me use you how I please right now or die.”

What kind of choice did you have really? This was your only chance to see another sunrise, to see another normal day.

“Alright.” you get out, the word sounding sad and broken as it leaves your lips. At your agreeance, he backs off to his desk, placing the pistol down and opening a few drawers until he finds what he’s looking for. Out he pulls a wooden case. Inside another pistol, but this one is clean, more delicate looking and has a longer muzzle. He pulls some bullets from the case that it was in and loads the gun, one at a time, making eye contact with you.

What could he be doing with that? You think as he slowly walks towards the chair where you’re tied up, eyes stuck on his. He shoves the muzzle into your face.

“Open up sweetheart, this will go easy or fucking hard depending on your actions.” he smirks poking your lips with the barrel. You feel your teeth cutting against your lips as you resolutely close them. You aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of making this easy for him.

At least that’s what you think until you feel a blooming pain on the side of your cheekbone, the bastard had pistol whipped you and your mouth fell open in a scream. You feel something cold and metal shoved deep into your throat and you gagged harshly.

“I said, fucking OPEN bitch.” he seethes, shoving the gun deeper and you feel your air supply drastically restricted. “Now be a good girl and suck the gun off, my trigger finger is a bit itchy today.”

Sobbing in embarrassment, you begin to bob your head up and down the gun, shaking in fear. You close your eyes rather than have to look at the sick fascination on the man’s face as he sees you work the gun. You know he’s getting hard because of this and as much as you hate the situation you can feel your arousal growing knowing that he’s likely going to fuck you well.

A few minutes pass, the only sounds being wet noises as you blow the gun, the metallic taste of steel taking over your mouth and combined with your fear, making you want to vomit.

“Enough.” he says suddenly, and you drop your mouth open and take deep breaths trying to steady yourself as he takes it out. You open your eyes and feel your heartbeat race as he pulls out a knife in his left hand. You flinch as he brings it to your lower half, but instead of cutting into you, he instead uses it to rip through all your clothing and tears it off. He smirks as he looks at your cunt quivering as the cool air hits it.

“What’s this? Have you been hiding your enjoyment through your tears?” he leans down putting his face near yours and the gun beside up to your head as his fingers ghost across your lower lips. You bite your lip, you’re not allowing yourself to feel pleasured by this. He sees the determination in your eyes and smiles, always excited for any challenge that crosses his path.

He knows he always wins of course.

You feel him enter a calloused finger into your pussy, the slight stretch making you take a sharp breath as he moves it in and out, occasionally curling the digit. Against your will, your body responds to him, hips moving as much as they can while you’re restrained. When he deems you ready, he adds a second in, scissoring them to open you up. His thumb plays with your clit and you let out small whimpers as you feel your core heat up and start to tighten.

“You like me playing with your pretty pussy, don’t you? No matter how much you try to deny it, I can feel you tightening around my fingers, and I can see your eyes start to dilate.” as much as you want to shout that he’s wrong, you know he’s write. You’re not sure if you hate him or yourself more in that moment.

He suddenly pulls his fingers out and looks at you as you whine needily. “Wanna be full again? I have the perfect idea.” he puts the gun on a hook as he takes out the knife again and cuts the restraints on your arms. Immediately you reach to claw at any bit of him you can reach, but he grabs your hands and lets out a tsk in disappointment.

“I thought you were smarter than that. Guess we’re doing this the hard way.” he manages to hold your wrists together in one hand as he gives you a strong backhand across your face with the other, dazing you. Blearily, you realize he’s tied your two wrists together and cut off your leg restraints. He puts your tied arms behind his head and lifts you with one arm, as he picks up the gun once again and brings you to sit on his lap in his large leather desk chair.

He leans back with a self satisfied sigh as he moves his legs to spread yours further apart, watching as some of your juices drip out of your cunt.

“I want you to listen very carefully,” he says lowly, his voice a growl in your ear that makes you shiver. “What’s going to happen is that I’m going to put this pretty loaded gun up your pussy, and you’re going to get yourself off. If you can’t do that within a couple minutes, I might get impatient and pull the trigger. Got it, sweetheart?”

What else can you do but nod? You have no idea if you can even get yourself off only on penetration with the fear holding you stiff, but if you want to live you’re going to have to do it somehow. You clench in surprise as the cool metal is ruthlessly shoved into you without warning, letting out a moan.

His eyes are on you as you gradually start moving your hips into the gun, feeling it reach deep. His wrist moves in time with your movements, helping you out a bit. You try and force out the entire situation and the fear from your mind, focusing on the sensations. The cool metal providing you some sharp pleasure as you pump yourself up and down the muzzle.

You whimper as you start grinding down faster feeling one of the ridges on the weapon hit your clit every time you bring yourself down on it. You lose track of everything as you shut your eyes and lean your head into the man’s neck. He smells almost as good as he looks and you just let yourself go, losing track of time. You enjoy the sensations and soon enough you bring yourself to the edge.

You can hear yourself whimpering and cum with a shout, your juices flowing down the metal and onto his hand. You open your eyes after feeling spent, as he takes the gun out and sends it clattering onto the table. Making eye contact with you, he lewdly slurps the juices from his hand into his mouth.

“Sweeter than I thought. What a good girl you are for doing it right.” He says stroking your face rather condescending. “Now it’s my turn.”

He unbuckles his belt and shimmies them down as he stands up holding you in his arms. He then drops you onto his cock without warning, as you scream from pain and pleasure as he fills your needy cunt. 

He chuckles, the sound much deeper than before. “That’s right I want to fucking hear you scream, better yet I’ll give you a name to scream out. Katsuki Bakugou.”

He lifts you almost off his cock and slams you down again, thrusting as you come down making you see stars. Soon you’re only crying his name out as you card your fingers through his hair and tug as you lose sense of everything else but the feeling of his cock in you. 

“You take my cock so fucking well sweetheart, I haven’t even found a whore this good.” He practically cackles, speeding up his pace as he chases his own release. He slams your back onto the desk and you howl as your back arches, the pleasure he’s giving you covering up the pain of your body being banged up.

You cum shouting out his name, clamping down on his cock as he releases his load deep into you and takes heaving breaths.

He pulls out and lifts your arms over his head as he gets his clothing back on and straightens out his shirt. You want to move, run, get away, but you can’t bring yourself to even move. The most you can do is blink the tears out of your eyes and blearily look up to him. 

“So now I can go right?” You ask, your voice shaking. “You said I could live if you fucked me.”

He just laughs. “I said you could live, I didn’t say your were leaving sweetheart.”

You wail as your heart drops and you realize just how utterly fucked you are.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #tw: dubious consent #tw: violence #tw: gun play #smut #jays writes

[send-me-your-hcs]

okay. for some reason mob boss tony kidnaps peter and it turns out peter is a little. (he gets so scared and couldn't help but get into the littlespace as a defence mechanism???) and tony freaks out because he doesn't know how to take care of a little.

This is literally so funny to me. Like just the thought of Tony going from “You belong to me now, baby boy” to “oh God why is it making that noise, Happy make it stop” is so fucking hilarious?? But damn if I’m not intrigued.

…

......am I doing it?

…….fuck me I’m doing it. Damn you, anon.

Warnings: mentions of human trafficking and abuse, ageplay, underage (but Peter’s age is unspecified and can be envisioned however you’d like).

The compound crumbles in less than an hour.

For all his bravado, Justin Hammer goes down almost too easily. Tony feels tempted to whistle as he walks through the compound’s warehouse, stepping over the slain bodies of Hammer’s underpaid cronies.

His team is just finishing up the last of the clean-up. The occasional gunshot echoes off the walls as Tony takes stock of all the merchandise he just inherited, debating what to do with Hammer once they get home. It almost feels like a waste of effort and time to torture the man before killing him, even with all the trouble he stirred up with the police. Tony’s tempted to just put a bullet in his brain and be done with it.

But, well. He isn’t called The Merchant of Death for nothing, and he does have a certain image to maintain. Plus, with Hammer keeping him company tonight, he’ll at least be partially spared from the usual tedium that comes with being the biggest mafia don on the east coast.

It’s as he’s wondering just what exactly he should do to Hammer first that Happy finally arrives, looking a little disheveled, but no worse for wear. “Boss,” he says, stumbling over the array of corpses with a muted curse, “compound’s clear. We’re ready to pack this all up and move out.”

Tony wipes the toe of his shoe off on some unnamed man’s bullethole-patterned sleeve. “Good. And Hammer?”

“On his way back to base as we speak, sir. I’ll have him ready for you when you arrive.”

Tony nods in approval, then notices the pronounced, telltale crease in Happy’s brow. Always a good sign.

“Something else you wanna tell me, Hap?”

Happy grimaces, deepening his forehead wrinkle. “There was an unexpected...uh...hiccup, sir.”

Tony lifts an eyebrow at the other man, equal parts curious and incredulous. “A hiccup,” he repeats, slowly, watching Happy’s face grow increasingly sour. “What sort of hiccup?”

“The, um...the teenaged boy kind?”

---

There are only two bodies littering the floor outside Hammer’s office: his enforcer, and his bodyguard. Happy scowls at the sight and starts clumsily rolling them out of the way, glaring at Bucky while he does.

Bucky smirks at Happy, pointedly not moving to help clear away the bodies lying between them. “Kid hasn’t stopped crying since you took Hammer,” he says to him, standing in the doorway like a sentry.

“Probably in relief,” Tony says, straightening his tie as Happy finishes kicking over the second body. “Who is he? Do we know?”

“My guess is a trafficking vic,” Bucky says with a shrug. “He’s got bruises. Seems kinda...out of it.”

Tony hums. “Well, I suppose we’re about to find out.”

Bucky steps aside and Tony strolls into the room, sparing a disinterested glance at Hammer’s shameful choice of interior decorating. The throw pillows are haphazardly strewn across the floor from the sofa; one of the grommet drapes is missing from the window. It’s a mess, but that’s not entirely unexpected.

Happy follows close behind him as he makes his way to the corner of the room, where the soft sound of pitiful sobs is coming from underneath the large desk. Tony peeks his head beneath the desktop just enough to confirm the kid doesn’t have a loaded weapon before he crouches down.

The little thing is balled up tight, wrapped in the missing window drapery and clutching one of the stolen throw pillows like his life depends on it. He seems naked underneath it, which confirms Bucky’s human trafficking theory and gives Tony almost an instant headache. There are bruises spanning the boy’s wrists and ankles that look new and swollen, standing out brightly against the boy’s very pale skin.

Tony clears his throat. “As comfortable as that looks, perhaps I could convince you to stand up so we can chat face to face, hm?”

The kid flinches, whimpering into the pillow he has pressed over his face. Tony sighs like an overburdened parent and says, “I don’t have all day. You have till the count of three to come out on your own before I come in there and make you. You hear me? One. Two…”

The boy’s soft-looking head of curls slowly lifts, and the next thing Tony knows, he’s staring into the biggest pair of honey-brown eyes he’s ever seen. They’re red-rimmed and brimming with tears, swollen from how long the kid’s been crying, but they stay obediently and nervously fixed on Tony as the boy slowly uncurls his limbs and crawls out from under the desk.

Tony’s somewhat surprised that the boy clings to his pillow religiously enough to let the curtain slip down to his waist, held up by only a single tiny, shaking fist. The boy won’t spare either hand to hold the drape up properly so it pools around his hips, revealing his slim, narrow torso, his perfectly unblemished skin.

There aren’t any other bruises, though more could be hiding under the curtain. Tony appraises the kid for a long, tense moment before he asks, “What’s your name?”

Thin arms squeeze the throw pillow tight enough to strangle it. The boy is still looking up at him with that damned pair of Disney eyes. He hasn’t stopped crying.

“‘m Peter,” he mumbles, sniffling.

His voice is cute. A little high for a kid his age, but in an endearing way. “Peter.” Tony nods, pleased. “I’m Tony. Tell me, Pete, how long have you been here?”

Peter glances at Happy, then at Bucky in the doorway, before shyly lowering his gaze to the pillow in his arms. He hugs it tighter and says, “Um...don’t...don’t know what day it is.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Happy says, sounding put out in that wonderful way he always does. “June 16th.”

The boy blinks, looking nervous and unsure as he says, “Since...two days.”

“Okay,” Tony says, “And where were you before that?”

Peter’s shoulders droop. He looks down at the floor with wet eyes, mumbling, “With bad guys.”

It takes everything Tony has not to smirk. “Bad guys? Worse than these ones?”

Peter nods. “They took me,” he says, his little voice completely heartbroken, “from Miss Jones’s place. They waited till she was asleep and they took me. S’been…” Confusion washes over his face, like he’s trying to access some memory that isn’t there. “It was winter. There was still snow outside.”

Before Tony can decide how to respond to that, Happy tactfully pipes up with, “Who the hell is Miss Jones?”

“Michelle Jones Adoption Center,” Bucky says, reading aloud as he stares down at his phone. “Looks like a non-profit adoption agency. Website says the founder also runs a foster home. Is that the one?”

All three men turn to look at Peter, who nods, staring at Bucky hopefully. “Uh-huh. They sent me there when my aunt and uncle died.”

Part of Tony is scared to ask. “What happened to your parents?”

“They died when I was little.”

“Yikes,” Happy says quietly under his breath, though not quietly enough. Tony gives him a reproachful look, then turns back to the boy, whose face is once again soaked in tears, clinging to his throw pillow like it’s a teddy bear.

Tony bites the bullet and says, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, kid, but now that you’ve seen our faces, I can’t let you go back to Miss Jones’ place.”

If the kid’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps staring down at his pillow, letting his tears drip down off his cheeks and soak into the fabric. “I just...I want…” His lower lip wobbles, and then the sobs come. “I don’t know. I don’t know. ‘m so - so c-confused. I just want my D-Daddy.”

For the first time in longer than Tony can remember, he’s at a loss for words.

“Want Daddy,” Peter says again, babbling, like a child. The crying is really doing nothing for Tony’s budding headache. “‘m scared.”

“I’m praying this isn’t what it sounds like, but, please tell me Justin Hammer wasn’t your Daddy. Ugh, Jesus, I’m never going to get the taste of those words out of my mouth. Blech.”

Thankfully, Peter shakes his head no, looking just as disgusted as Tony feels. Thank God. “I don’t...I don’t think so. I-I don’t know. They said I had to be good for Daddy. They said I couldn’t go home unless it was with h-him.”

Bucky jokingly says, “I’ll be his Daddy,” but he mutes himself when Tony lifts a hand to silence him, before turning to give Happy a helpless look. The man stares back, then silently gestures to his gun, the question clear as day on his face. Tony immediately shakes his head, waving the man’s hand away from his holster with a steely glare.

Okay, so. That’s interesting. Apparently mercy-killing the boy isn’t an option. Giving him back to gentle-hearted, law-abiding-citizen Miss Jones isn’t an option, either.

So where does that leave him?

Tony watches the boy cry a moment longer before resignedly asking, “Peter, how old are you?”

Peter wipes his wet face on the pillow, refusing to let neither it nor the curtain go long enough to use his hands. “Don’t...know,” he says, after a moment, his brows furrowed like he’s thinking it over hard. “They s-said that was up to my Daddy.”

Stellar. Great big help, that is.

Sighing, Tony rubs his temple to soothe his headache, taking a moment to really look at the boy in front of him. Peter is...well. It’s fair to say he isn’t unattractive. Hammer’s poor taste in interior design apparently doesn’t extend to sex slaves.

Tony’s done horrible, truly vile things in his career, but children are usually where he draws his thin, arguably nonexistent moral line. They’re rarely intelligent enough to interest him in any fashion, but Peter - for what it’s worth - has managed to pique his interest just enough that he finds himself actually opening his mouth and saying:

“Peter. Since I can’t let you go back to your foster home, tell me: would you rather come home with me instead?”

He lets the ‘instead of killing you’ go unsaid, since the boy is already having trouble wiping away his tears. Peter stares up at him with a frightened, mistrustful look that makes Tony’s hands twitch. There’s innocence in those eyes, sure. But there’s brightness too. For all the babbling and childish baby-speak Peter’s given him, Tony gets the very distinct impression that he’s far from stupid.

“With you?” the boy asks, hardly louder than a whisper. His tone is soft and wary, sounding every bit the child he believes he is. “You...you’ll be my Daddy?”

It’s a strange thing, to be fifty years old and still learning such intimate things about himself, like how fucked up he is for liking it when this sweet, baby-faced teenage boy calls him Daddy in his soft, childish little voice. Part of him can’t wait to turn around and see the looks on Happy and Bucky’s faces; the rest of him doesn’t want to take his eyes off Peter for even a moment.

He nods, giving Peter what he hopes is a reassuring smile as he steps forward, offering his hand for the boy to take. “That’s right, honey,” he says, his tone syrupy sweet. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Daddy’s here now.”

Peter looks between Tony’s outstretched hand and his smiling face, deliberating on what they both know is his only real option. Finally, he lets the curtain drop from around his hips to pool at his feet, revealing his slender legs and freshly-shaven pubic area. Tony’s brain momentarily goes white and fuzzy until Peter’s slim, soft hand hesitantly takes his own, still clutching that hideous throw pillow to his chest like a teddy bear.

Tony grants himself another long look over Peter’s gorgeous frame as he slips his suit jacket off and drapes it over the boy’s shoulders. Peter smiles gratefully and pushes his arms through the sleeves, his face darkening with a blush as Tony starts fastening the buttons. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Fuck. Forcing himself to swallow the growl building in his throat, Tony takes the boy’s hand again and leads him to the door. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”

Peter clings to him as they step through the threshold. Well, Tony thinks to himself, his hand tightening around Peter’s own, at least things won’t be boring from now on.

#starker #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #ru answers #anonymous

[five-miles-over]

Blackout (Willie Gutierrez x Reader)

(image source: pinterest.com)

Summary: The reader is Willie Gutierrez’s new neighbor, and the two of them accidentally meet during a power outage when the reader wants to borrow a lighter for some candles

Word Count: 1,588

Warnings: mentions of weapons and murder, as well as references to the plot of ‘The Yards’

They'd only been apart for a week and already he had a new lover hanging off his arm.

For most people living in the run-down apartment complex, situated in the darkest, grittiest section of The Bronx, tonight was just like any other Friday night. After another day at their miserable 9-to-5, minimum-wage jobs, they’d saunter on home and either drink away a large portion of their paycheck or fall asleep in front of their television with a frozen dinner.

But for Willie Gutierrez, it was a night for celebration…a celebration of survival. This Friday marked his first week since he’d been released after 5-year-long sentence that he swore permanently took a part of his sanity. Even though there would be a parole officer visiting him twice a week, Willie was finally free to get his life back and live in society. As soon as the rays of the setting sun caught his eye, Willie cracked open a Miller beer and began scrolling through his cell phone.

I guess he finally got over his thing for Erica, Willie grunted as he looked at the photo. In an effort to be courteous, Leo Handler - Willie’s friend from grade school - sent a picture of himself with his arm around a blonde girl wearing a slip dress and Doc Marten shoes. He really had no need to try maintaining their relationship, visiting Willie in prison and calling him every week, especially not after all the trouble Willie had gotten him into. Maybe it was Leo’s mother who encouraged her son to let the past remain in the past.

Though for Willie, following that advice would be a task much easier said that done.

On the night he killed Erica, Willie remembered hearing a story from Leo’s step-uncle about Leo and Erica being in love despite their relationship as cousins., and how those two were caught having sex once. Even though it had been a while since that fateful night, it still made Willie cringe to think of them doing it. He wouldn’t have felt as bad if he’d found out one of his friends was Erica’s ex, but the fact that it was her cousin and his best friend - who’d taken jail time for their gang - made Willie want to vomit even now.

“Fuck.”

The lightbulb fizzled out like a dying fly, and the heating suddenly stopped, leaving his entire apartment completely dark and cold.

As he took in the view from the twentieth floor, the lights seemed to go out all over the city. Swearing under his breath, Willie slumped onto the couch and tried his best to take another swig of beer. He didn’t exactly have the wildest plans for tonight, but it’s not like he wanted to be stuck in a blackbox with no means of any entertainment.

A few moments later, Willie perked up when he heard a knock followed by an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, is anyone home?”

Willie remained silent, wishing that his gun were here right now in case the voice belonged to a robber. Unfortunately, concealed carry for  had a bit too much red tape for Willie’s liking. Not even getting in touch with Frank, his ex-boss, would help him get a gun for self-defense. Frank probably wanted nothing to do with Willie at this point, even if he was released for good behavior.

“I’m not a telemarketer, or anything. I’m your neighbor.” The voice added. "And I'm not armed."

"What do you want?" Willie muttered under his breath.

"A lighter would be nice," You replied. "Or some matches - could you open the door please? I swear I'm not here to hurt you."

Covering his eyes, he was blinded temporarily by the flashlight you held up so he wouldn't bump into you "Geez, you don't have to point that fucking thing at me!"

"Sorry…just wanted to make sure that you knew what I looked like." Sheepishly, you introduced yourself to him, telling him your name and how recently you'd moved into the building.

"I'm Willie, yeah…I'm new too. Why did you need lighters?"

You gestured to your other hand, which held a few candles. A flashlight probably wasn't going to last you all night, and even though your apartment was a literal shoebox, some candlesticks would provide enough brightness until the power came back on.

"Oh."

"So…may I borrow your lighter, please?"

"I would, but this is my only one."

"…And you don't trust me because you think I won't return it to you?"

After a moment of silence between the two of you, you invited Willie over to your apartment just so that he could take the lighter when you were done with it. And you secretly were hoping that Willie would turn out to be good company.

He internally debated for a few moments before accepting your proposition. On one hand, you seemed like a decent person…a decent person who probably just ended up in this place because you couldn't afford a nicer building, not because you had just gotten out of prison. On the other hand, you probably didn't know that he was a criminal and a murderer - how could he completely trust you, let alone accept an invitation into your home? He didn't even want to tell you his last name, just in case you'd seen it in the newspapers. Then again, it wasn't like he knew anybody else here except for his parole officer, and taking a chance might just be the thing he needed to get back to his old extroverted, adventurous self.

"So, what floor do you live on?"

"The same one as yours, Willie. The twentieth," You answered with a chuckle, leading him inside your home. "Can I get you something to drink - water, beer, or something?"

"Beer sounds fine."

You lit the candles in your apartment before heading to the fridge and handing him a bottle of hopefully-still-cold beer. Gladly accepting the drink, Willie sneakily tried to get a better look at you while you poured yourself another round of your favorite alcohol.

Amongst the candles, you actually looked quite pretty, maybe someone he wouldn't mind seeing more often. He'd most likely never seen you before because he rarely left the apartment over the past week, let alone his room.

On Monday, he could barely get out of bed because of how overwhelming it all felt - starting over from scratch with no friends, no family members, and no former acquaintances. He kept thinking about where to begin, and whom to ask for help. Tuesday and Wednesday, with a little help from his parole officer and prison therapist, he was able to enroll himself in some economics classes from a local college, and a part-time thing as a cashier at a drugstore. Thursday was spent mostly in bed again; it was a 'relapse', as Willie called it. And on Friday, he went out grocery shopping for the first time. Even though most of the stuff he picked out was instant, ready-to-eat food that required little to no preparation, it was still a good start.

"Power outages suck," you muttered, taking a sip.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I remember getting them sometimes when I lived in Queens."

"You lived in Queens?" "My whole life, yeah."

For almost three hours, the two of you continued to make some small talk. You eventually told him that you had recently graduated, and now working somewhere in the Bronx. It wasn't the greatest job in the world, but at least it got you a place to live and paid the bills. You told him a little about your home town, along with a silly thing or two about your childhood.

Willie felt himself relax a little more, hearing you talk about your life. He wished that maybe someday, he'd be able to talk about his past with the same ease that you seemed to have. In addition, you had a really great voice that was nice to listen to, though he wouldn't say that out loud. He didn't want to seem like he was coming onto you too suddenly. Plus, he didn't know if you were even looking for a relationship, or if you were already taken.

Just when you were almost finished telling a story, the lights buzzed back on with a crackle. "Look at that." You sighed, a part of yourself wishing that the power would not return for a while just so that Willie could be over for a bit longer.

"Yeah…power's back. I should probably head back. Besides, it's really late."

"Don't forget your lighter," you joked, reminding him why you originally invited him over to your place. Willie thanked you for your company and laughed a little, his jade-green eyes bearing a slight twinkle.

You walked him over to his place, a mere few steps away from yours, and the two of you discussed the possibility of maybe having dinner together sometime. It wasn't meant to be a date or anything, but just an opportunity for you to hang out as neighbors. You were both alone in a new city, and agreed that it would be great to have at least one familiar face to depend on.

"Good night…neighbor." He disappeared behind his door with a smug wink, proud of himself for taking a chance with you. Just like a poker player with a royal flush, he'd undoubtedly won this round.

"Good night, Willie."

#willie gutierrez #the yards 2000 #Joaquin Phoenix #willie x reader #willie gutierrez x reader

[adorethedistance]

Artist!Harry Styles x reader part 2

Read part one here!

A/n: back by popular demand, here is part 2 of Art student!Harry because the last one was a cliffhanger angst and now it’s sad boi hours. Might do a part three might not. Depends how I'm feeling and how y’all are feeling. 

Warnings: implied sex but I’m pretty sure that’s it.

Words: 1112

“I wanna see!”

“No, it’s not done yet. I’m just starting your face, and you haven’t got nipples yet.”

‘“What’s taking so long?” I only have two.” Harry narrows his eyes at me, snorting at my joke in a humorless way.

This is true bliss. I’m laying in bed, topless, as my lover puts my portrait in oil. I want the moment to last forever and I would not trade it for anything in the world. I’m proud to be his muse.

Right now I’m framed between his white bed sheets where we had just spent an incredible night together. When we woke, Harry said he wanted to savor the moment forever and asked if I would sit for a piece for his personal collection. When inspiration hits, it’s like you’ve struck gold, and I wouldn’t dare take that away from him.

“I can paint nipples quite easy. Now hush.” Pulling his brush away from the canvas, Harry pulls his lower lip into his mouth and cinches his eyebrows simultaneously. He adds a few measured strokes before leaning back to look at the canvas entirely. His face relaxes in satisfaction as he plops the brush into the cup of paint water with a splash. Then, he picks up a small, pigment-stained cloth to clean his hands with. His smile remains stagnant as he surveys the canvas in front of him; I see his eyes flick up and down the length of the frame.

“You… are quite a difficult essence to capture, you know that?”

“Why? Because I’m ugly?” Harry lets out a hearty laugh before setting the cloth on his thigh.

“No. Because your eyes are perfect.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious!” He defends, “Your eye color is so rich that it’s hard to mix up the right paints.” The compliment makes me smile bashfully. No one’s ever told me my eyes are pretty in such an intricate way before. From behind his canvas, Harry peers at me through full lashes, soaking in the joy of my reaction.

I can tell he’s thinking about something and just doesn’t want to say it. I’ll wait. I’ll wait until the end of time to hear what he has to say, so long as he stays by my side.

“You are so beautiful, Y/n Y/m/n.”

The memory makes my stomach churn in agonizing sadness. We were so happy and in love. I don’t hate past Y/n and Harry. I’m just extremely jealous of them.

Jealous because present Y/n and Harry haven’t spoken in a full week. That is, until...

“Oh, I didn’t know you would be here.” Harry keeps his eyes trained on the floor between us. I should hate him. I should be livid, fuming even. He’s the one who shattered my heart into a billion pieces by walking away.

But I don’t. And I’m not. And I hate myself for it.

“I always go to office hours on Tuesday.” He knows that. He knows I’m always at Tuesday office hours because he knows my schedule. “You don’t even have Dr. Morgan. You could’ve at least tried to be nondescript and gone to a professor that we actually share,” I say lamely. I thought me being an undergrad and him studying for an M.F.A would give us contrasting schedules but it didn’t. If anything, it gave us more time to see one another. We used to spend hours in the studio lab just working side by side. Giving each other feedback on our pieces, and laughing through paint fights before getting yelled at by whichever TA was supervising.

When I look down, I see Harry’s holding a brown moleskin journal in his right hand, and in his left, his usual coffee order.

“Is that a black iced coffee with a half packet of sugar?” Kind of a stupid question to ask. I don’t even care for the answer, I just crave the sound of his voice. The rasp of his vocal fry accompanies the deep timbre of his molasses like pacing. His voice is unlike any other that I’ve heard before, but even if it weren’t, I would still miss it just as much.

“It’s actually a full packet ‘cause you weren’t there to finish it and I felt bad about throwing it away,” he states softly while examining the cup much closer than he would if he could bring himself to look at me. Harry would always dump the excess in my cup just to mess with me. Then I’d pretend to be upset but secretly love it.

“Must be a bit sweeter than you wanted.”

“Yeah…”

Please just look at me. I will him silently. I miss the way his face wrinkles when he smiles. I miss running my hands through his hair as he laid in my lap. I miss him holding my hand while he drives. I miss all the little things, all the tiny gestures that made my heart skip a beat.

I miss you, Harry.

“Christ, Y/n can we just talk?”

“Please.”

“Not here. Come back to my place with me.” “H, I need to talk to Morgan. We can talk another time.” And all he does is nod softly, disappointedly. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? What if he’s been fine this entire time and I’m just a loser who can’t move on? Did he ever stop loving Camile?

Each question floods my brain with an even deeper sadness and tears of anguish begin to well up in my eyes. I’m praying he doesn’t notice, but he does. Of course he does.

Against my will the tears dive from my lash line onto the cool, tiled floor and Harry sets his journal and coffee on the display case next to us. He grabs onto the empty canvas I’m gripping as a way to silently ask my permission. I don’t turn away or hold on tighter which allows him to gently slip it from my fingers and set it on the case next to his belongings.

Harry’s always loved wholly and unabashedly, and even though we’re broken up, that hasn’t changed. He wraps one arm around my back and the other cradling my head in his large hand so he can pull me into a tight embrace.

“You looked like you could use a hug,” is all he says to explain his actions. He smells like the cedarwood, mint, and vanilla cologne that he knows is my favorite, which tells me just how non-accidental his ‘running into me’ really was. I’m too miserable to be mad, so I hug back twice as desperately.

“I missed you.”

***

Part three here.

#Harry #Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles fic #Harry Styles writing #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles angst #Harry Styles fluff #Harry Styles blurb #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry Styles x you #artist harry #writing #reader insert

[twomoonstwosuns]

the beard and the boyfriend.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), age gap (reader over 18), everything consensual

word count: 4.0k

a/n: tbh i needed an excuse to dedicate a chapter to oscar isaac’s beard. this literally exists to satiate my thirst for the beard, so if you feel the same way, this one’s for you!

finn and rey on deck. we’ll start moving things along again. just had to get this out of my system. special thanks to “clean shaven, five days ago” from this video for the beard love.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You weren’t entirely sure how things got to this point.

Poe had wrapped up class earlier than usual and, after emailing the entire class the details of their next big assignment, brought up some Youtube video that someone had mentioned in an offhanded comment earlier. Students lingered to talk with him, some left already, and some were hanging out just having conversations.

A loud kid who sat in the front, you were pretty sure his name was DJ, started asking about the assignment Poe had iterated twice that D’Acy wanted them to do. You rolled your eyes and started to leave, not interested in sticking around to listen to him complain. He was a cocky loudmouth who liked to party and sweet talk his way into others doing his homework instead of doing the work himself.

“Is there anyway we can convince you to not make us do it?” DJ asked. You stole a glance at Kaydel, both of you admiring the nerve this guy had. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and certainly wouldn’t be the last. You could tell Poe was getting a little annoyed too.

“Probably not.” Poe said with a tone of finality.

“What about a bet?” DJ persisted. “You win, we’ll do the assignment. I win, we don’t and everyone gets 100%.”

That caught everyone’s attention, even Poe’s. You and Kaydel stopped by the door. The room was silent as they looked between Poe and DJ. Poe leaned back in his chair, tapping the butt of his pen against the desk.

“Well, it depends.” He finally said. Everyone desperately hung onto his every word. “What did you have in mind?”

DJ contemplated, his hand on his chin. No one thought Poe would take him up on his offer, so he was quickly trying to come up with something.

“Beard-off.”

“Beard-off?”

“Whoever can grow the best one wins.”

Poe tapped his fingers against his knee. The offer was tempting, mostly because Poe knew he could win.

“You’ve got me interested,” Poe said. “You’re on.”

The class erupted in quiet chatter, mostly in excitement about this bet. DJ suddenly looked towards the back of the room.

“Snap man, you can grow a mean beard. You want in?”

Snap nodded as Poe brought the attention of the class back to him.

“Wait, how many people are going to be in on this? It has to be fair.”

“Just me and Snap, promise.” DJ said. “No more.”

You could practically see the gears turning in Poe’s head. He never was one to back down from a challenge, and even though he was now outnumbered he really didn’t want to give DJ the satisfaction. He bit his lip in consideration. He looked around the room, gauging the reactions. When he locked eyes with yours, you gave him a raise of your eyebrows.

“Alright, here are the rules.” Poe finally said, looking back at DJ. “We start tomorrow, clean shaven. We’ll see who can grow the best beard by class on Tuesday. Six days. No shaving, no grooming, no products or at home remedies to try and make it thicker faster. DJ wins, I’ll waive the assignment and give everyone 100%. Snap wins, I’ll waive the next test and give everyone 100%. I win, everyone does both the assignment and the test plus something extra.”

The room held it’s breath as DJ considered the terms. He looked across the room at Snap, who shrugged and nodded.

“You’re on, Dameron.” DJ said, approaching the desk to shake Poe’s hand.

“Class votes on Tuesday.” Poe said. “And I know you guys don’t want the assignment or the test, but please try to be fair. It’s not going to be any fun knowing I kicked their butts if you’re going to vote for them anyway.”

The guys in the classroom hollered at the challenge. A proud smirk grew on your face.

This was going to be fun.

》 》 》

The week went by fast.

You saw Poe Thursday evening, his stubble already darkening. You had plans to visit Tallie that weekend and he refused to send you pictures of the progression of his beard, citing that you should be impartial in judging in class. You told him you’d vote for him regardless, to which he chuckled and said he’d want you to be surprised.

Poe wasn’t in class when you got there, which was odd to you considering he was always about ten minutes early. DJ and Snap were both early, talking to their admirers who were already buzzing with excitement.

“So, what do you think?” DJ yelled across the room as you walked to your seat.

“I think I never want to see either of you without facial hair ever again.”

For as long as you’d known Snap, you’d never seen him without his beard. To say you were disturbed by a smooth baby-faced Snap was an understatement. And DJ, well, you never paid much attention to him to care, but it was still a weird sight to see. You’d seen them both with thicker beards, but the beards they had after a week were coming in pretty nicely, though they were short so you could still see the skin of their face underneath.

“Oh, come on!”

You glanced over at DJ, who had thrown his hands up in the air in frustration. You followed his line of sight and your jaw dropped.

Poe was barely recognizable. His beard was dark and thick, tremendously superior to DJ and Snap’s. It filled his face nicely and just looked natural. They gawked at him and you could see a smug grin on his face. You propped your elbow up on your desk and rested your chin in your palm, shaking your head in disbelief and openly gawking at him like everyone else in the room. Poe set his stuff down and glanced at you before looking at his two competitors. You made it very obvious to him that you were checking him out.

“That’s not fair.” DJ said. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Look at that thing! That’s after a week?” Snap asked incredulously. Poe grinned smugly and Snap shook his head in disbelief and put his hands up in defeat as he walked to his seat. “Damn. That’s beautiful, man.”

“You had to have used something to make it grow fast.” DJ accused. There would be no vote. He knew he lost. Hell, everyone knew he lost.

“Nope,” Poe said, propping up on his desk and crossing his arms. “I didn’t do anything to it except let it grow.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

Some students voiced their complaints about what he said, telling him to give it up and accept defeat. It was just a stupid bet, after all, even if DJ’s pride was wounded.

“Call my girlfriend,” Poe said simply with a shrug, knowing DJ would never actually do anything to make a case against him. Your head snapped in his direction. “She can vouch for me.”

You bit the end of your pen to stop the big grin that was starting to form on your face. You could practically hear the groans of disappointment of the girls around you. As his eyes swept over where you sat, you gave him a soft smile.

“Good effort, guys. I’ll let you know when I’ve figured out the extra thing you’re going to do for me.”

It was the longest hour and a half of your life. You could barely concentrate with Poe looking the way he did. You couldn’t concentrate in the class you had after his either. You were getting too excited to see Poe. You forced yourself to write down whatever was on the slides even though the words didn’t translate into learned knowledge. You had just left the building when the music you had just turned on for your walk home was interrupted by your ringtone, Poe’s name flashing across the screen.

“I thought you had student meetings all afternoon?”

“I’ve got about twenty minutes before my next one.”

You checked the time on your phone. You weren’t too far away from Poe’s office, so you decided to make your way over there.

“What’re you doing?”

“Heading home to get started on a paper so I can go see my boyfriend tonight.”

Poe smiled even though you couldn’t see him. It had been a slip of the tongue and he almost dreaded seeing your reaction in case it was too fast. You’d only been dating a week and hadn’t even had a second date yet. But the smile he saw on your face sent a wave of relief through his body.

“You have a minute to stop by? I want to see you.”

“Aw, did you miss me this weekend?”

“I might’ve.”

“I might’ve missed you, too.”

‘Might’ve’ was a lie. You definitely did. The honeymoon phase was going strong and you found yourself wanting to spend as much time with him as possible, especially since the relationship with your roommates was still strained. But you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t be that girl who dropped everything and everyone for a boyfriend.

“Have you talked to your roommates?”

“If you count mumbling ‘hey’, ‘please’, and ‘thank you’ as riveting conversation, then yes. I don’t even know if they’re mad at me.”

“Are you still mad at them?”

“I don’t know. It was never their reaction that bothered me. It was the fact that they think I’d whore around for a good grade and that I’m not smart enough to think of the consequences if people were to find out.”

“I could talk to them, if you want.”

You knew Poe was joking, but you also knew he’d probably do it if you asked. “I can’t imagine that going over well, but thank you for the offer.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay with me and Beebs if it gets too much.”

“I know. And I so appreciate that.” You said fondly, careful to climb the stairs up to his floor without him hearing your voice echo. “So the beard…”

“Yeah? What do you think?”

“I like it, you look really good with it. The only thing is that hides the dimple you get when you smile that I’ve grown so fond of. But once again, you’ve proven you can pull something off that only a handful of men can. You’re perfect and it’s so annoying.”

Poe’s loud laughter could be heard from down the hall.

“You kind of look like a hipster with it. All you need is a beanie or a fedora,” you teased. “Oh, and some skinny jeans and Ray Bans. You walk down the street with those plus your guitar and people could mistake you for a handsome yet douchey indie singer.”

“Make fun all you want,” Poe said, his voice low. “I don’t think you’ll be doing much teasing when you feel it between your thighs later tonight.”

You felt a rush of heat flood your body and settle straight in your core. You glanced around to make sure no one was around.

“Such a shame I have to wait until tonight, unless…”

“Is that a challenge?”

You stood in Poe’s doorway, admiring the leisurely way he sat back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk.

“If you want it to be.”

The look on Poe’s face when he heard your voice in his doorway rather than through the phone made you laugh. You shut the door and locked it, tossing your backpack, coat, and phone onto one of the chairs in front of his desk. You thanked your lucky stars you didn’t have to worry about windows looking out into the hallway, instead there was just one that looked outside three stories up from the ground.

You met him in the middle of his office, pulling him into a hug with your arms around his shoulders. Poe’s arms circled his arms around your waist and he buried his head in your hair, breathing deeply as he swayed you both back and forth.

“Having you in class sucks,” he said against your hair. “You’re right there and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“You’re telling me. It was really hard not just stare at you all throughout class, especially when you came in with this.” You brought a hand up to cradle Poe’s jaw, making him lift his head so he was looking down at you. You tilted his head so you could get a closer look. “This really does look good. I don’t know what I was expecting to see today, but I was notdisappointed. And thank youfor shutting DJ up.”

“Hopefully he’ll think twice about being a pain in the ass for the rest of the semester.”

“Doubtful, but I admire your optimism.”

Poe smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“By the way, I accept your challenge.” Poe suddenly swung you around, leading you back to his desk. You nearly tripped on your feet, the back of his desk hitting your lower back. “Want to see what I can do in ten minutes?”

You nodded eagerly, the ache between your legs becoming uncomfortable. Poe brought you in to meet his lips by the back of your neck. It was teasing, light as a feather. He applied more pressure and traced his tongue along your lip, begging for entrance. You granted him access and he immediately invaded, exploring your mouth like he was searching for treasure. The beard against your face tickled, an unfamiliar but entirely pleasant feeling. You nearly shivered thinking about how it would feel between your legs.

Poe made quick work of pulling your jeans down to your ankles. He dragged two fingers through your folds, swirling your collected arousal around your clit. He knelt on the ground in front of you, nipping the insides of your thighs and soothing the sting with his tongue. The friction of his beard against the soft skin of your thigh was indescribable. It was soft and rough at the same time.

“Poe, you have—fuck—you have seven minutes.”

Poe removed his fingers and lowered his mouth onto your pussy, his tongue flat and licking a long stripe from your opening to your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the desk, your teeth biting your lip so hard you were sure you’d draw blood. Poe laid an arm across your lap, keeping you in place. He flicked his tongue against your clit, a soft moan coming from your chest. One of your hands found his way into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He glided his fingers back in, sliding them almost all the way out before adding a third and curling them. A loud groan tore from your throat. Poe stood up and removed his lips, stilling his fingers. You let out a whine of protest.

“You have to keep quiet,” Poe smirked against your lips. “Or I stop. Understand?”

You nodded.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Good girl,” Poe muttered, quickly pecking your lips before kneeling down again. The dominating tone of voice practically made you quake with arousal. Poe’s fingers started pumping into you at a quick pace, his tongue returning to your clit matching its pace. His fingers brushed against the sweet spot inside you, your legs trembling as the white-hot burn in your belly flared.  

Poe brushed his fingers by your spot again and, with firm pressure against it, wrapped his lips fully around your clit and sucked. A swore under your breath and a soft cry fell from your lips as you fell over the edge, riding Poe’s fingers as he lapped up every last bit. Your head dropped forward, a breathless giggle leaving you as you got your breathing under control. Poe removed his fingers slowly, sucking them into his mouth obscenely with his eyes on yours and that smug grin back on his face. He grabbed your hand and pulled you upright. Your legs were a little shaky beneath you as you pulled your bottoms back up.

“I am sopaying you back tonight,” you said, buttoning your jeans before wrapping your arms around his waist. “Remind me to never everbet against you.”

“I always win.” Poe smirked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He leaned down to kiss you when a knock on the door interrupted him. You scrambled quietly to make yourself presentable and quickly put your coat on. You sat down in the vacant chair to play the part as Poe opened the door, his whole hand over the lock to make sure he masked the sound of it unlocking.

“I’m finishing up a private conversation with someone, can you hang out for minute or two and I’ll wrap it up?”

You stifled a giggle as the student agreed. Poe shut the door again and you stood up, grabbing your bag. With both hands on your face, he pulled you into a sweet kiss.

“I’ll see you later,” he muttered, placing another quick peck on your lips. You bit your lip. “And don’t do that, it drives me crazy.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, which he kissed away. You opened the door and paused. “Since, I’m here…”

You opened your backpack and took out the book you had borrowed, handing it back to Poe as the student entered his office.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow it. It really helped.”

Poe nodded in acknowledgement before shutting the door behind you. A giddy smile was on your face the entire walk back to your apartment. It was a slow walk, the burn of his beard on your skin rubbing uncomfortably against the denim of your jeans. The first thing you did when you got into your apartment was change into a looser pair of lounge pants, the sting a painful and pleasant memory you’d replay in your head over and over again.

You had a plan: a couple of hours of homework before Poe would text you to let you know he was finally home. You settled into the love seat in your living room with your laptop on your lap and a textbook leaning up against the arm of the chair. You were comfy and, with the relaxing music coming from some random Spotify playlist you found to help you concentrate, also on the verge of sleepiness.

Movement caught the corner of your eye but you paid no mind to it. You had heard rustling when you walked in, so you knew at least one of your roommates was home. You only glanced up when Karé sat on the coffee table in front of you next to your propped up legs. You looked back at your down at your laptop when she spoke.

“Can we talk?”

You saved your work, closed your computer, and marked the page of the book and set them all aside, pausing the music on your phone as well.

“I’m sorry,” Karé said. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

“You had every right to be shocked,” you said quietly. Karé shook her head.

“I’m sorry for making you think you were stupid and that you didn’t know what you were doing.You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I know this isn’t a good enough reason, but I only said what I said because I care about you. Jessika does too. I know she feels really bad.”

“Good. She should.”

“We both meant well. Jessika just doesn’t always have a filter and will say whatever’s on her mind, consequences be damned. We just don’t want you getting into any kind of trouble. Professor Dameron either, I mean he’s a great teacher.”

“I know, but you know me. I know the risks and Poe does too. That’s why we’re being careful,” you explained. “Besides, it’s not like Poe’s going to be hanging out here or spending the night like Snap does. There are a lot of things we can’t do. Which is fine, I’m not complaining, but you guys don’t have to worry about being uncomfortable with him here.”

“I know. I trust your judgment.” Karé said. “I really am sorry.”

You leaned forward and brought your friend into a hug, rubbing her back comfortingly. And that was all she needed to know everything was ok between you two.

“For the record, I don’t think I’d be uncomfortable having him here,” Karé said, pulling out of the hug. “It might be a little weird at first since he’s a teacher and all, but you have just as much a right as either of us to have a boyfriend over. Boyfriend, right? Or are you not labeling it yet?”

“Yeah, boyfriend. Today, actually.”

Karé smiled at the way your eyes lit up.

“You’re clearly happy. I’ve seen it when you talked about him even before your date last week and when you come home after seeing him. We’re your friends and we should support that as long as he treats you right, so you have mine. And I know you have Jessika’s too, she just needs a little more time.”

“Thank you.”

There was a comfortable silence that settled over the two of you.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing Karé’s attention. “I have to finish telling you about my date.”

“There’s more?”

“We went back to his apartment after. He had made dinner earlier, there was wine and candles and dancing…Karé we freakin’ danced, like it was straight out of a romantic comedy.”

“Damn. I’m going to have to tell Snap to step it up.”

You laughed, glad that things were cleared up with at least one of your roommates. Karé had always tried to remain the levelheaded, neutral one, so you were thankful things with her were back to normal.

“Oh! You have to tell me what happened with Ben.”

“There’s honestly not a lot to tell. He just texted me out of the blue. Just ‘hey, how are you?’”

“Did you text him back?”

“Not right away, but yeah. We were friends before we dated. We didn’t end on the best terms but it wasn’t hostile or anything.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“When we broke up four years ago. He’s been abroad ever since.”

“Are you going to tell Poe about him?”

“If he comes up in conversation or if he asks about Ben, then yeah, I’ll tell him. I don’t have anything to hide. Like I said, Ben and I were friends for a little bit before we dated. My dad and his dad were good friends.”

“What about his mom?”

“I’ve never met her. She wasn’t in the country when we dated.”

Karé gave you a look. “Well, I hope he doesn’t try anything.”

“I’m not worried, but don’t worry I’ll tell you if anything happens.”

“Good. So…do you want to order in food tonight?” Karéasked. “We have a lot of catching up to do from not talking for the last week.”

“I was going to go to Poe’s later tonight, but I can cancel—“

“No, god no, I can’t ask you to do that. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s perfect.”

Karé patted your leg before she stood. You brought your computer and book back up onto your lap and dove into your work, feeling better and more content about everything.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories 

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron smut #smut #poe dameron x y/n #modern au #modern poe dameron #poe dameron fluff #back to you series #poe dameron x reader insert #poe dameron fanfiction

[addierose444]

A Typical Week: Spring 2021

Before getting into the actual content, I thought I would just point out that this is my 100th blog post! You can check out the full list here. 

As noted in my fall 2020 version of this post, my week is primarily dictated by my current course schedule. (To check out all of my past courses, click here). Furthermore, the way I write these posts is to focus on academics as they're a big part of my life, but also the most natural thing to write about publicly. This post should give you a realistic sense of the structure of my week and courses. I thought it may be useful to contrast expectations and reality when it comes to productivity. Early in the semester, I mapped out my idealized homework schedule around my meetings and assignment deadlines. The first row lists deadlines. The other rows are split by my meals (lunch and dinner). Even if I don’t strictly follow the schedule, spending the time to map things out is quite useful. To write about my real schedule, I actually looked back through data from my time tracking application, Toggl Track. I know this is a very long post, but it wasn’t really interesting enough to become a two-parter. 

A typical school day starts off with my 9:00 (or 9:10) alarm. I also often have a second alarm set for 9:15 as a backup. Here at college, I simply use the default clock app on my phone and have it play from my favorites playlist on Spotify. I very occasionally need to wake up earlier to finish up an assignment as midnight is my strict cutoff for doing work. I know a consistent sleep schedule is very important, but it’s definitely something I struggle with.

Monday:

My week begins with a 9:20 math class. The specific course is math methods which as previously explained is an applied math course from the physics department that is required for physics and engineering majors. We usually start off by going over the pre-class check in (PCCI) and/or other questions students have. This review is followed by a lecture on new material. Throughout the class, we work through example problems in breakout rooms (on Zoom whiteboards) and answer multiple-choice questions using the poll feature. (The poll questions are anonymous and ungraded). Partway through the class, we get a 4-minute break. One nice thing about this class is that we actually thoroughly go through the example problems when we regroup as an entire class. This is important because, without feedback, practice is of limited utility. Furthermore, going over the problem gives me a chance to get everything into my notes. The integration of lectures with practice is something I really appreciate about this course. In past math classes, the format has been a lecture followed by a worksheet of practice problems. While that model sometimes makes sense, I much prefer this integrated approach.  One issue with leaving practice until the end is that you sometimes run out of time and don’t catch knowledge gaps until the end of class. After math methods, I get a 20-minute break during which I often listen to the latest episode of The Daily (a short new podcast from the New York Times). 

Next up is my philosophy of logic class which starts with a few minutes of breathing and stretching. On the first day of class, I thought this was a really strange thing, but have come to appreciate it. Afterward, we go over any relevant announcements and sometimes debrief the previous class. This class is different from my other classes in that it is reading and discussion-based. We spend most of the class in the main room strengthening our understanding of the reading through full class discussions and mini-lectures. Even though the class is already very small (13 students), we also make use of breakout rooms to work through study questions. Our tests are pyramid style which means we spend one class period working independently and another class on the same questions in a small group. We also have short quizzes, called mini check-ins,  every few weeks. Next up is lunch during which I sometimes listen to a podcast or audiobook. You can check out some of my favorite podcasts and books of 2020 at the associated links.

After lunch, I have my computer systems lab. The teaching assistant of my lab section starts off with a quick introduction to the assignment. We then work independently and ask questions as they come up. Even though we don’t really work collaboratively the lab is sort of fun because it’s less formal than a regular class. For the first part of the semester, the lab assignments often took way longer than the allotted time (and sometimes longer than our projects) so I often spent more of the afternoon finishing up the assignment. Fortunately, the course staff was made aware of this issue and adjusted accordingly. Just for some context, this course is a UMass class which is why there is a whole course team and teaching assistants. To read more about Five College course registration click here. At Smith, while some classes have teaching assistants who help out during class, all of the classes are taught and run by our actual professors. We also have student tutors as an academic resource outside of class. To read more about academic support systems at Smith, click here. 

After finishing up my lab assignment, I start in on my math methods PCCI. A typical PCCI consists of reading a section or two of the textbook (written by our professor) and completing a short practice problem or so-called discovery exercise. Depending on the week, I either start in on my reading assignment for my computer systems class or logic class. At 4:00, I have my weekly one-on-one meeting with my supervisor for my ResLife job. Following the meeting, I relax by listening to music or an audiobook. At 5:00, I order, pick up, and eat my dinner. After dinner, I complete any remaining readings for my computer systems and logic classes. If I haven’t yet completed my lab assignment or have an exam the following day, I devote some of the night to circuits. Otherwise, I may work on a computer systems project or theory of computation assignment. 

Tuesday:

Tuesday’s are my busiest day of the week in terms of class hours. With that said, it’s nothing compared to my Thursdays last fall. I start Tuesdays off with my circuits class. During class, we learn new circuit theory and circuit analysis techniques. We also go through example problems. While we often run out of time to fully work through the extra practice problems in breakout rooms, fortunately, my professor posts videos going over those problems. After taking our feedback into account, we now get a break partway through the class. Each lecture covers a lot of material, so the brain/screen break is much appreciated. To check in on how the class is feeling about various concepts, our professor has us use the annotation feature on a scale from totally get it to totally lost. 

After circuits is my 20-minute break followed by my theory of computation lecture. The theoretical nature of the material means that it really is a lecture. While we obviously go through examples, there aren’t really practice problems as there would be in a math class. We use the chat to some extent in all of my classes, but to a greater degree in this course. Next up is lunch and a COVID test. At 1:40 I am back to circuits for the lab. Most of the labs are virtual with physical lab equipment, but a few have been in-person so that we could use special equipment. Ironically, one of our in-person labs was actually fully virtual in terms of lab equipment. (We were sitting on the lawn outside of Ford together and running circuit simulators on our laptops). Fortunately, we don’t usually need to stay until 4:30. I tend to just collect my data, ask some questions about the material, and then finish up the write-up at a later point in time. This time block is also the one used whenever we have an exam. 

I always start by doing the textbook reading for circuits. I don’t read super closely, but it’s still a good primer for the next class. In terms of other work, Tuesdays are a bit more unpredictable and really depend on how much I got done over the weekend. Specifically, while I usually finish my math methods assignment over the weekend, occasionally I need to finish it up on Tuesday evenings. Likewise, for circuits, I sometimes finish the last few problems on a Tuesday evening. At 7:00, I have a staff meeting with the other community advisors in my neighborhood and our supervisor. Our meetings usually take place over Zoom, but our most recent one was in-person with ice cream from Herrell’s which was a lot of fun. You can read about some other Northampton food locations (restaurants, cafes, and more) here. In weeks where I haven’t yet started my computer systems work, I do what I would usually have done on a Monday on a Tuesday. 

Wednesday:

Wednesdays are similar to Mondays without the computer systems lab and ResLife meeting. In the afternoon I often attend office hours for my theory of computation class to ask questions about the weekly assignment. Even though I don’t have my logic class until the following Monday, I usually just do the reading on Wednesday afternoon. On Wednesday evenings, I typically work through my circuits revisions. I also tend to do a good chunk of my computer systems coursework. This consists of watching lecture videos, taking notes, and taking lesson quizzes. Furthermore, I have definitely spent some Wednesday evenings working through computer systems projects. 

Thursday:

Thursdays are like Tuesdays without the circuits lab. Even though I have the whole afternoon free, unfortunately, I am sometimes having to finish up my theory of computation assignment. It’s also common for me to start working on the new math methods problem set. In the case of this Thursday, I played some guitar and then started writing this post. I also do my circuits reading for Tuesday and take the quick lab quiz. If I have any remaining computer systems coursework, I do that as well.  

Friday:

This semester I only have one class on Fridays, math methods. After class, I get a COVID test and an early lunch. I know it seems crazy how many free afternoons I have given that I am taking 22 credits and am a double STEM major. However, part of this is explained by my UMass computer systems course being asynchronous and the fact that I completed the one-credit companion course in C programming before my Smith semester started. My computer systems class was originally scheduled to meet Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. Even though I wish the class was synchronous, the flexibility of an asynchronous class has been much appreciated. Furthermore, the class was in a terrible time block that would have caused me to miss most of house tea. Back to what a Friday afternoon looks like! After completing my PCCI for math methods, I often rewatch the lecture videos for computer systems (on double speed) and then take the weekly quiz. I next pick up tea snacks from Cutter-Z and attend house tea at 4:30. After tea, I order dinner and often eat it in the living room with housemates. Fridays are definitely my least productive day and I have definitely taken a few weekly quizzes on Saturday after having planned to take them on Friday. Instead of doing real work, I often spend Friday afternoons writing blog posts. As for this post, I wrote most of it yesterday but spent a good chunk of Friday afternoon on it as well. 

Saturday:

Despite my best efforts to have a consistent sleep schedule, I often sleep in on Saturdays until 10:00. I then have a leisurely hour or so of listening to an audiobook. At 11:00, I get an early lunch. As mentioned in the Friday description, I sometimes end up taking my weekly quiz for computer systems on Saturday. When I have tests in math methods, I typically take them on Saturday night. (The tests are timed but are self-scheduled over the given weekend which includes Friday). When there is not a math test, I often work on my math problem set in the afternoon. Every few weeks, I host POCheese at 4:00. This week we are actually going to be meeting at 5:00 for a ramen night! At 6:00 I have a uke club meeting over Zoom. In weeks where I have already finished my math problem set and don’t have a test, I start in on my circuits problem set.

Sunday:

Sundays start like Saturdays in that I often have a leisurely morning. At 11:00 I get a COVID test and an early lunch. Sundays are almost always devoted to my circuits. This includes working through the problems set, the lab writeup, or studying for an upcoming exam. If my Saturday wasn’t as productive as intended, I do the homework described in that section. At 6:00 I have a Society of Women Engineers (SWE) board meeting. At 7:00, I either lead a community meeting (part of my ResLife job) or attend house council. Afterward, I fill out my weekly report (also part of my ResLife job).

#college #Smith College #academics #schedule #week in my life #homework #spring 2021

[raimaamjad]

Uzi

“Mohammad Usman Chaudhry, a 21-year-old Pakistani American, was fatally shot at 1435 N. Curson St. in Hollywood at 4 a.m. Tuesday, March 25.” Funny, that’s not how they identified his body after failing to notify us for twenty one days. They thought he was black. I’ve heard the phrase “manners maketh man.” I didn’t realize when it comes to identifying a body, hair texture could maketh man as well. Would we have known sooner if he was correctly labeled as Pakistani? Would it have been even longer? I think it depends on your bias of choice.

According to the LA times, “Officer Joseph Cruz and his partner were patrolling the street when they saw a dark figure by an apartment complex. The officers approached to investigate and encountered Chaudhry lying behind some bushes. As Cruz was questioning Chaudhry, he pulled out a folding knife and stabbed Cruz on the left hand. Cruz pulled out his gun and fired several rounds at Chaudhry. Los Angeles Fire Department paramedics pronounced Chaudhry dead at the scene at 4:21 a.m.”  Mohammad Usman Chaudhry was not a dark figure, he was a human being. He was somebody’s son, somebody’s brother. Mohammad Usman Chaudhry was my cousin. He was also the last person in the world to own a knife, let alone draw one upon an officer of the law. No one believed the bullshit for even a split second.

Usman came from a home that you would call, in my judgemental culture, “broken.” Growing up I always knew that in terms of the rest of my family, Usman’s was different. His parents did not sacrifice their entire lives for their children or place the pressures of their happiness on them. They found solace in their own pursuit of knowledge, studying what they desired and working the occupations that appealed to them. Their entire world was not their kids, and while in the United States would constitute that as healthy, in Pakistan it meant you were a failure of a  parent. If your child was not successful, you were not successful. If your child was not the only priority in your life, there is something definitely wrong with you. My aunt and uncle had three children: Umar, Usman, and Usma. When Umar was born, my aunt and uncle left the country to study abroad and left him under the care of my grandparents for six years. This is what was the first sign of the reckoning to come. When they returned, Usman refused to live with them. “That’s not my home, home is where I grew up.” Continuing to stay in my grandparents home instead, Umar had a new set of parents. He did not need my aunt and uncle to raise him because he’d already been raised by the same people who raised his father. You’d have thought they did a good enough job the first time around, but apparently not if their child was handing off his own to galavant the world instead. At least, that’s how society saw it.

And because their first shot at having a child was a failure, they set out to have a second. Enter, Usman. Usman was born a year after they returned to the states, and just in case they screwed up another kid they had a backup plan pop out nine months later. Her name was Usma. Not having their brother in the house definitely put a strain on their family, both internally and facing the judgement of society about what had gone wrong. Nonetheless, the siblings still kept in touch and tried to remain closer than ever. It was clear that Usman was unfortunately, not the brightest bulb in the room. This wasn’t his fault by any means, he was just born on the spectrum and diagnosed as an autistic from a young age on. His parents knew that nothing could be done and because of this “hindrance” he would never be the success they wanted him to be, so their hopes were drawn to their last and final child.

Usma and Usman did live in the same house, and because of this the pair were closer siblings than with Umar. Usma received the most attention, and the most pressure from their parents because she was their only chance at a future. One kid they didn’t screw up.

Because Usman was autistic, and would often wander from home. He built his sense of community with the homeless.  He’d disappear for days on end and no one would look for him. “He was an adult”, they would say. “He needs his space, we don't want to suffocate him.” Well I hate to break it to you, but your “space” got more than 6 feet of space between his corpse. He was autistic, and not ready to be out in the world alone. He didn’t need space, he needed someone to protect him. We were all deeply upset when we found out about his death, but the grief could not overtake the comments that came with it.

“Maybe if they’d raised him right this wouldn’t have happened”

“If they’d paid better attention to him, maybe he wouldn’t have been murdered like this.”

“It’s because of his hair and his dark skin. His parents should have straightened it and not let him go out into the sun so much, they wouldn’t have thought he was black then. ”

My parents especially would say the most, that Usman’s parents basically killed them with their neglect. I wanted to tell them that they tried their best like all parents, like they do. But I didn’t. I wanted to tell them that no, it wasn’t their fault, they made mistakes but my aunt and uncle didn’t kill their son. But I didn’t. I wanted to tell them that they didn’t hold that gun up to him and pull the trigger, that someone else was behind the shot. I wanted to tell them that being black wasn’t a reason to die. But, I didn’t.

And I still don’t know why I didn’t. What was I scared about? Scared to have my own thoughts? Scared of l guilt for “talking back” to my elders because I didn’t share the same view points? As time went on so did the fight to bring justice to Usman’s name. My uncle and aunt would lead multiple protests against the LAPD  and although my family knew Usman was innocent, no one but his parents and Usma would go to clear Usman’s name. They were too scared of making a ruckus in public. Just like I was too scared to make a ruckus in my own home.

I asked if I could go to the protests for Usman’s justice. Of course, that was completely out of the question.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re too young to know what you’re doing going to a protest.”

Fifteen years old is apparently not enough time for the brain to form an opinion.

“What will people say?”

And just what will they say? That an innocent man was murdered and his family is there to support him? Why are we worried about what people have to say when our family member was murdered in cold blood? Why should we be scared to make noise when we know we’ve been wronged? Why was I too scared to speak against my family’s opinions, even when I knew THEY were being wrong? Was there even a difference between them and me if I let it happen?

Well, LA Times, let me give you a run down of what really happened. “Officer Joseph Cruz and his partner were patrolling the street when they saw a dark figure by an apartment complex. As if that statement isn’t racist enough, don’t you worry it gets worse. The officers approached to investigate, and encountered Usman lying behind some bushes. Cruz had a history with Usman, and often harassed him and other homeless people, probably of color. Funny, considering his last name is Cruz. Cruz sent his partner to “investigate Chaudhry” on the database located in the police car. When out of his partner’s line of sight, Cruz pulled out his proceeded to shoot him. Usman was immediately dead. Cruz withdrew a folding knife from his pocket, and threw it next to Usman’s body. His partner lied and said that he was with Cruz the whole time, and Cruz shot Usman in self defense. He lied not to protect only Cruz’s name, but the name of every other murderous cop that has gotten away with taking an innocent life because their skin does not match the hues of the snow but the shade of earth. Los Angeles Fire Department paramedics pronounced Chaudhry dead at the scene at 4:21 a.m.”

The only people’s opinions we should have been worrying about were the Jury’s when it came to declaring a verdict on the civil rights trial that followed suit. The trial that revealed that Officer Cruz wasn’t just a stranger to Usman, but someone he frequently encountered on his check ups of LA. The trial that told us the only DNA found on the knife was Officer Cruz’s. The trial that told the world that Usman Chaudhry was wrongfully murdered by an abusive LAPD police officer who tried to slander his name.

Soon we were receiving calls of congratulations and apologies from everyone we know. Usman’s  name cleared and his trial gained fame highlighting the true corruption of the LAPD. Images of my aunt and uncle and cousin leading the masses that never doubted my cousin's innocence from the beginning stamped on the front page of every paper. People began asking why my family weren’t present in any of the protests. I wonder what they will say.

#shortstories

[choruscas]

suptober day 08: electric

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

also, i’m so sorry that these stories are late! i went on vacation and i totally forgot my writing ipad and had nothing else to use to post these! hopefully these long oneshots will make it up. thank you!

boss!castiel, assistant!dean

Working two years at an insurance company really had a toll on some people. Sometimes it sagged their skin, brittled their bones, or grayed their hair. Sometimes the bosses made your ears bleed and your nose crinkle, wishing it was five o’clock already.

But not Dean. Sure, he was thirty-two and going on strong, but he wasn’t old compared to the rest. There was still a kick in his step, his bones were mighty and strong (thanks to Sammy’s tips on how to stay fit while literally doing nothing) and maybe he had a little bit of a gut going on, but nothing he couldn’t fix.

His boss? Castiel Novak.

Lots of people didn’t like him, as he had lots of enemies. Dean wasn’t sure why, as he didn’t care. Before he accepted his job as assistant, lots of people told him about Castiel. (“Novak’s numbfuckin’ gorgeous, man.” — “Be careful with that one, he’s pretty rough.” — “He’s like... emotionless.” And those were only a few examples.)

He was stone cold, monotonous, soulless.

Even heartless, some said.

But there was a mighty, mighty problem.

Mr. Novak is the most attractive person in the entire world to Dean. Once he saw a picture of his boss, with his piercing blue eyes and five o’clock shadow, Dean was submissive nearly immediately. In his interview, Dean just could. not. stop. staring. Even if his life depended on it, he could not stop looking at the movement of his broad shoulders, the work of his rough hands, the flickering of his eyes like pure fire.

-

Dean sat in the office’s kitchen during lunch break. Normally he would go out and maybe grab a cheeseburger of sorts but today Mr. Novak seemed very different. He seemed sad, to Dean. And since Dean was in love — no... had a huge crush on his boss, it upset Dean himself.

Eating a spoonful of pudding and sucking on the plastic utensil, April Kelly sat down in a chair at Dean’s table, flattening her skirt before she sat. Dean eyed her suspiciously, as she looked a little revolted by something.

Hushed in a whisper, she asked: “So is it really true? Are you and Mr. Novak... a thing?”

Nearly choking on his spoon, Dean jerked his head back and began a coughing fit. A few other employees looked at Dean whose face began to turn red and the tips of his ears tinged shades of pinks.

There was a lot of things Dean had heard in his life that he had the same question for: what the fuck? For example, walking in on his gym teacher and science teacher going at it like rabbits in the teacher’s lounge, or the time poor seven year old Sammy came home with a broken arm and said that a squirrel had snapped it in half. (In reality, he fell of a tree because he tried to jump to a branch with a squirrel, but little children had dramatic memories.)

But this question? Cream of the crop. Takes the cake. Out of all the questions she could’ve asked. “Hey, are you a diabetic owl too?” Or “Have you dated nineteen Katherine’s all with the same spelling who also dumped you?” And sure, those questions would’ve weirded him out, but this one... just mind boggled him.

How in the fuck could Dean even be remotely in Castiel’s league? Hell, he didn’t even think he was gay.

“No— what? Who said that?” Dean gawked, his eyeballs practically falling out of his head.

April rolled her eyes softly. “Bartholomew.”

Dean huffed explosively. Bartholomew Strautman. World’s biggest fucking idiot in the world.

“That bastard? April, you know that’s not true. You’re smarter than that.”

The assistant knew for a fact that she was not, but he didn’t wanna hurt her feelings for rumors she didn’t even start. Dean’s nickname for Bartholomew was B.S., because that’s normally what he was fucking full of whenever he was around him. Dean’s surprised he’s never swallowed a damn sandal for how many times he stuck his foot in his mouth.

Now, Dean didn’t really like April, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to be nice to her. He was only mean to bitches who were mean to him first, otherwise, it was just insensitive.

“I just hope it’s not true.” she sighed sadly.

Dean quirked his head. “Why?”

“I really like Mr. Novak...” Her voice then became a whisper. “And... I think he likes me too.”

Dean blinked multiple times. “Uh— Yeah. Maybe.”

Her head peaked up to meet Dean eye to eye. “Really?” she exclaimed.

Now, Dean wasn’t really expecting that.How the fuck is he supposed to tell her, “Hey, you’re kinda dumbass and I don’t like you... and Castiel is mine, so fuck off.”

So instead he just told her that she might have a chance. It saved him from having to deal with a full-grown temper tantrum (which she’s had before because her printer paper wouldn’t fit in the copier. Dean had fixed it by simply rotating the paper.) in the middle of work, which he would much rather not have.

It was an hour before Dean left work. He normally got there at eight o’clock in the morning, because Castiel needed his coffee before nine. Granted, Castiel had never asked Dean deliberately to make his coffee, but Dean’s attempt to swoon him with bribery kindness were his day-to-day tasks. So at the moment,

The elevator dinged and Dean turned around in his desk, just having finished beating Kevin Tran in Crazy 8. Every day they’d play something different. Monday was Crazy 8, and sometimes they’d manage to round a few other people too. Today, they had managed to grab Bobby Singer, Anna Milton, and Meg Masters to play a few rounds. Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, Thursday’s and Friday’s, it would just be Kevin and Dean playing.

Dean turned around to see his boss, and he just so managed to exit out of the tab and onto some random website that totally looked like work.

Fuck, was he hot.

His black overcoat was off and his white dress shirt was rolled up, the cuffs on his sleeves were unbuttoned, and he looked like a little bit of a mess. However, it was extremely attractive and Dean found himself biting his lip to stop himself from drooling over him.

The whole office sort of stifled quiet as Castiel’s cold eyes peered around the room. Dean, however, was the closest to him and he could just smell the cinnamon and black coffee radiating off of him.

“Dean.” Castiel said softly, looking down at Dean who had just grabbed a pen to twirl around his fingers.

“Yes sir?” Dean snapped up, straightening his posture and tugging at his sleeves.

“I need you in my office.”

Whispers quirked across the office floor, probably rumors about their relationship. It has never happened and Dean had told himself over and over again that it wouldn’t happen.

However, the thing that happened next was terrifying.

Once they had reached his office, which was a story up from his desk, Castiel had taken the lead and Dean found himself shaking with eagerness (and nervousness) of what’s next to come. Castiel had held the door open for him and once Dean reached inside, Castiel shut the door and locked it.

It was normal for Dean, but in this circumstance, he overthought everything. So the door locking was terrifying to him.

Castiel laid his hands flat on his desk and eyed Dean with precaution.

It made Dean tremble in his bones.

“You have heard the rumors, have you not?” he asked, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. It was such an innocent gesture that was so un-Castiel that Dean found himself nearly falling on his knees to worship him.

“Yeah-“ he stopped himself. “Yes sir.”

Castiel’s hands left the desk and he began slowly walking toward Dean, eyeing him as if he was prey and Castiel was the predator. Dean was then trembling in his shoes, feeling as if he could throw up from how nervous they were.

Now, Castiel’s next question was yet another question that Dean was not expecting.

“Are you romantically attracted to me?”

Not wanting to lie, Dean succumbed to Castiel’s look of prestigious nature. “Yes... yes sir- I...”

Castiel shushed him. “I’ll be after work. Make sure everybody is gone and turn off all the lights before you come back here. 5:30, Dean.”

Fuck.

-

Dean eyed the clock with such suspicion that he wanted to smash it in the floor and turn the minute handle to 5:30 already. At five o’clock, people should be starting to pack up and leave.

And as five o’clock pulled around, they did just that. Dean said his goodbyes, trying not to look suspicious. Because normally when the clock struck five, Dean was up and out faster than you could say cherry pie. He liked his job (the sexy boss sure helped) but relaxing was better to him in his opinion.

At about 5:15, people were still taking their sweet precious time.

5:20. Dean still had to go all the way to the basement to turn off the lights.

5:25. Anna Milton.

“Hey Dean, good job on Crazy 8 earlier! You’re pretty good.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes and slap her in the face. He knew exactly what she was doing, like she did everyday. Flirting.

“Listen, Anna— Mr. Novak-“

“Castiel is a cheapskate, he can wait.”

Dean’s nostrils practically flared from the informality and disrespect she had for him. Since Dean was in love had a huge crush on his boss, any disrespect towards him made him blood boil.

“Anna...”

“If the rumors are true...”

“They’re not.”

“Alright, whatever.” she flung her hands up in defeat, sighing like it was her last breath. “If you wanna play another game sometime, my house is always open to move some furniture around.”

Dean shivered. Anna was cute and all, but she was toxic and manipulative as fuck. He only had eyes for one man and one man only.

Shit! It was 5:29.

Once the door and shut and he knew Anna was out of the office like Castiel had said, Dean ran to the basement, his messenger bag almost falling down the stairs many, many times.

He really needed to work out instead of using Sammy’s stupid techniques of having good posture and drinking water (also while watching TV, a detail Dean “forgot” to tell Sam) to burn calories.

He finally reached his office, after having to run four flights of stairs, he finally made it. At 5:35. Fuck.

Knocking on the door made Dean realize how hard he was shaky. In all honesty, this was probably the scariest thing he’s ever had to do.

What if he gets fired? What if he breaks his heart? Fuck. Anything could happen.

“Come in.”

And so Dean did, and the sight he saw was a sight for sore eyes. His tie was untied and hanging around his neck, his belt was off, and his dress shirt was untucked.

The sex they had was indeed not heartless. It was soft, and full of something Dean never though Castiel was capable of giving him: love. He treasured him as if he was the richest gold or rarest diamond, kissing his every freckle and blemish like he was made of glass.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

#suptober #suptober20 #deancas #destiel #boss!castiel #assistant!dean #day 08 #day 8 #heartless #castiel #dean winchester

[3rwqfesaf]

the greater part of the strength of both houses had gone south with Robb

Schoettler were approved pursuant to this process.. Nothing burns calories better than swimming fast. He was one of the first newsmen to fly on B 17 raids over Germany launched from England. So I tried writing it GP style. It is fun, extreme and you will have a blast. Try some of these, and you might not have to do a thorough clean as often as you do now and instead do a little surface cleaning in between big cleans.. When he tried to scream, she spat their tongue out.. Having wide feet makes it essential to find the best pair of wide width high top basketball shoes. It was always dusk inside the base of the Great Pyramid. The candle burned with a dark red flame, she knew; for those with eyes, the corpse would have seemed awash in a ruddy glow. jeans moda 2015 donna amazonThis is not rhyme and on the other hand attraction of the city. Tyrion managed to avoid retching his way through all of this, chiefly thanks to the lack of wine. Cherish these times, make the most of them, because all too soon you'll try out your wings in the world and we are convinced the future will

salomon prezzi scarpe sportive

be yours for the taking.. Half the Umbers would be across the field with Whoresbane, fighting beneath the flayed man of the Dreadfort, and the greater part of the strength of both houses had gone south with Robb, never to return. He helped us identify neighborhoods to narrow down on, based on our style of living and desire for a short commute. It disgusts me that these researchers

Mens ADIDAS ORIGINALS

went to publication with such extreme findings without ever actually validating their conclusions. Navy Capt. I still want more answers. 3. She was out of New Ghis and returning there by way of Yunkai after trading at Meereen. When taking your skateboard onto the plane, take the wheels off and place the skateboard and wheels in a bag. Stood in line for about three hours and finally got in there, he said. I am liking our coach and manager tandem. Allie for him represents the ideal of innocence and purity and the world which he opposes to the false world of grown ups. I’ve noticed that before now, for a long time past. Sa passion a commenc trs tt: mickey egeres babakocsiJ'ai toujours t fascin par les chaussures de sport. You can even use an alias to create a shortcut to another hard disk.. The deputy found abrasions and a severe bite mark on the woman.. It was very tart, like biting into a lemon. I knew, too, that by now the prince was tired of her, and yet their relations had not been broken off. Back in Texas, the Wincott family Mom Pamela (Lauren Graham, totally underused), Dad Ray (Thomas Haden Church) and teenager Justin

jean coquelin

(Josh Wiggins) are grieving at the funeral when they meet Max, who, heartbreakingly, knows his boss is in the coffin. Hagel, in case you've been in a cave, is a former Republican senator from Nebraska, fairly conservative, but restrained when it comes to waging war. You check me out, pay for it, put the money in your pocket. BOARDMAN, Ohio Ten years ago, when Max Lee of Canfield was just six years old, his parents started him on the keyboard. Lord Snow, must I remind you? You swore an oath.”. Monday, July 14, Itasca Community Library, 500 W. Broken men, he thought. Your personal risk would at least have proved, that though a murderer, you nike pegasus 34 hombre sprinter were not a coward. If you mountain biking, you have to stay alert, and that really wonderful, Alderman says.. A manager simply cannot put a value nike air vortex desert sand on a player who is available week in, week out and Antonio is one of them. I was running toward my children. Prior to joining Scotsburn as director of finance in 2005, Burrows worked as a controller for two companies in Nova Scotia and in professional services with Deloitte's Halifax office.. The great hall was dim and smoky. In his college days, Poloniato played cornerback at Bishop's University while earning a Bachelor degree business administration degree with a major in entrepreneurship. Haldon nodded. I'll never forget the night we watched through the beams as Sputnik made its way across the sky.". Ortiz watched the gunman flee, and sat with Arellano while he lay dying. I will not do it. All sections of country have faults peculiar to themselves. “Down. Enjoying Mediterranean and Middle Eastern restaurants around Madison is a great way to explore our city's culinary diversity. Retropolitan's stock mirrors Amy's personal aesthetic pretty well: sharp and contemporary, but still feminine and sentimental. Ford calls it a crossover. 20 21.. After the Houston Rockets got 14 fast reebok reverse jam lowbreak points on Tuesday, Coach Flip Saunders commented on how Andray Blatche and JaVale McGee run differently depending on what end of the court they are on, leaving opportunities for opposing big men to get easy baskets. Installing the Catalyst 12.4 allowed the Radeon HD 7970 to play at 41.8 FPS. “I have sworn a vow,” he told Hildy wearily.. I learned to fight in this yard, he thought, remembering warm summer days spent sparring with Robb and Jon Snow under

cazadora vaquera tommy hilfiger

the watchful eyes of old Ser Rodrik. "The most significant production of them all," said Turbow, was Max Reinhardt's spectacle, Mendelssohn's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," performed at the Hollywood Bowl in 1934. Four, with a bit of scrimping. He will not refuse his own mother. The entire system is being held up with smoke and mirrors until 2012. From the

chanel ágynemű

eerie, bone white Exoskeleton made of resin and produced through 3 D digital printing by Janina Alleyne to the disco ballish silver sparklers without a heel by Giuseppe Zanotti (also Ban's); nary a style is left unrepresented by FIT.. (Ref 4). Sit, Ghost. Had very little to eat. Anyone with information should call Wiltshire Police via 101 or Crimestoppers on 0800 555 111 where information can be left anonymously.. In the Daily Virginian of Nov. She wanted to say something to me alone. He was the oldest of his three, the biggest, the fiercest. FRASER, Dorothy Dorothy Jean Fraser, 60, formerly of Stratford, passed away in the Maples Home for Seniors in Tavistock on Friday, December 13, 2013. Hugh Vermont had no such difficulties dispatching this one and Northern found themselves in a 7 point game. That much had not changed about him. So keep 1084MHz in mind, this is where the video card started out. It been a part of Tennessee culture for 20 years.". Why Rowling chose to write the screenplay, rather than trusting the team that made the movies, is a mystery. Even better yet have a neighborhood coat drive or a company coat drive enlisting your fellow employees to get involved and bring their coats in. He the team starting quarterback and safety, its captain and leader, a Harvard University commit and a Cadet Colonel, the highest ranking officer in the school.. 527 2173. DEAR HELOISE: A friend recently had a death in her family. Another great Yankees gift idea usually are personalized American nhl jerseys. The Time Standard will be holding a food drive during the challenge. “So when I got a letter today he had to run off at once to avoid meeting my eyes.

[danadeservesadrink]

Do You Believe in Fate?

Chapters 1 and 2 available on AO3 Do You Believe In Fate (2750 words) by Samwritess

Posting both chapters 1 and 2 together here! Hoping to make this a longer series with tons of fun prompts and cute fluff!

Words: 4k

Rating: T for now

Tagging @today-in-fic

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hi, um, I think I have your pants”

“Excuse me”

“I’m sorry that came out wrong…”

“Who is this?”

“Um, sorry, this is Fox Mulder, I live in the Guardian apartment complex on Columbia St. I think I keep getting your mail”

“Oh. Are you in apartment 52? I used to live there.”

“Yes. That makes sense, actually, but um I’ve gotten some letters and today I got a package with some pants”

“You opened my mail?”

“I only opened it because I thought the shipping information would have a phone number.”

“I see. You know you probably could have looked me up before you rifled through my Loft purchases”

“Didn’t think of that. Anyway, I have your pants.”

“Thank you for letting me know. Are you planning on returning them or are you also a size 0?”

“No, no right, I’m sorry. Where would you like me to meet you?”

“I’m actually in D.C to pick up some supplies from my office on Tuesday. Would the coffee place on the corner of 11th work?”

“Yea that’s perfect actually. What time?”

“Let’s say noon?”

“Great. I’ll see you then Fox”

“See you then Dana”

He knew it was her before she even walked into the shop. He saw a glimpse of red hair about a block down and got to spend the entire block watching her small figure push through the pedestrians on the sidewalk and he felt like he knew her in seconds. She was wearing probably exactly the same pants he had in the box sitting next to him. Probably ordered them as backups for her backups. Navy goes with everything. She walked with her head down, and even with her small frame she seemed to get people to move out of her way with no effort. Dana Scully was a no fuss, no frills, independent woman. And god damn if that wasn’t his kind of woman.

When he figured out she had lived in his apartment, he knocked on the door next to him to get the inside scoop. The gunmen had lived in the apartment for a few years longer than he had, so maybe they had seen this woman around before. It took three seconds after he mentioned her name for Frohike to start gushing about her. “She’s got these blue eyes that stare right into your soul Mulder, red hair like fire, and God her voice...” he hadn’t shut up about her until Langley interrupted. It seems like Frohike’s adoration was more of the ‘we met in the laundry room once and I think I’m in love with her’ type. And with Frohike, you never really know if the woman will live up to his fantastical expectations. Apparently the last they saw of her was about two months before he moved in she packed up and left in quite the hurry. “God we were disappointed when you moved in after she moved out”. So far she fit the description.

She walked in the shop and before the twinkling of the bells had ceased to announce her presence she had spotted him and begun her march over to his table.

“How did you know it was me?” he smirked as she came to a halt next to his little table in the corner.

“How many other people sit in a coffee shop with a week's worth of letters and a Loft package?”

She takes off her sunglasses and he gets to take in all of her face for the first time and it almost knocks the wind out of him. Those blue eyes looked right through him. He had to tell Frohike he was right later. She wrinkled her brow when he spent too long staring so he started to shove the package in her face before she thought he was too much a creep.

“Can I buy you some coffee?” he tried to stand but it was awkward and he got way too close to her as he clamored his way up. He could smell her perfume and he swore he would never forget it. She stepped back.

“It’s no problem. I should be going anyway.” She started to back away from him and he felt a little piece of him move with her.

“No please I insist” He reached out to her and she backed up again, fumbling with the packages she was now holding. “At least let me help bring the packages to your car”  

She huffed and shifted to packages again, clearly fully capable of carrying them back herself.

“Listen, Fox. I’ve got an office to drag back to Annapolis and I really don't need your help. What I do need is to get going” She turned and walked back out of the shop and someone must have slipped something into his coffee that morning because he found himself slipping through the door behind her, abandoning his half finished decaf in the bin on the way out.

Maybe it was because Mulder had never felt as much connection as when she looked at him with those baby blue eyes. He had been with more women than he cared to admit, been in love with a fair few, but Miss Dana Scully with her navy blue Loft pants that she probably owned six pairs of had stolen his heart entirely. He felt this infatuation overtake him and every cell in him was screaming not to let her go. So he followed her out onto the busy street and walked next to her as she practically sprinted through the afternoon foot traffic.

“Why are you following me?” She huffed as she tried picking up the pace, but his long legs easily kept up with her tiny strides.

“Do you believe in fate Dana?” She turned to look at him as if he had grown a second head, and at that moment a passerby jostled her shoulder, causing her to trip forward, losing her balance and crossing her feet over, bumping right into his side. He grabbed her elbow to steady her and for the second time met those ice blue eyes. He thought time stood still. If the hard corner of the cardboard package hadn't been poking him in the ribs it would have been the most romantic moment of his life. Fuck, it was still the most romantic moment of his life, with her breathing heavy and the two of them staring at each other on a crowded sidewalk, pressed together by circumstance and fate.

“Logically I’d have to say no.” She breathed out, but the blush on her cheeks told him he wasn’t the only one who felt this.

It took another shoulder to hers from an old woman with an umbrella and too much perfume to knock her back into herself. She stepped back from him clutching the package into her chest like it was Kevlar.

“I have to go. Please don't follow me again.” He watched as she walked away into the crowd, her red hair enveloped into the mob of civilians like a balloon into the sky. Never to come back.

I’ll see her again, he thought. I have to.

---

“Dana Scully speaking”

“Hi, it's me again.”

“What do you want?”

“You got another package. I didn't open it this time”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“When would you like me to return it? I don’t know if you’ll be in town any time soon…”

“I have a friend’s wedding in a week on Tuesday in Alexandria. I can pick it up then.”

“Ok sure I should be home. What time should I expect you?”

“I’ll probably come earlier in the morning on my way to the ceremony if that's alright”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”

---

He was sweating. This isn’t even a date and he was practically sweating through his shirt at the idea of Dana Scully showing up at his apartment door. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind and he’d seen her for maybe 20 minutes tops. He had come home that day and pounded a beer like his life depended on it. The gunmen called his apartment not long after to check on him because apparently Frohike thought “he might have suffered a stroke when he saw her”. He walked into their apartment and was handed a glass of whiskey and an invitation to spill it all about the girl he was now undoubtedly infatuated with. Maybe it was love or maybe just obsession but he was stuck with the image of only her in his head. And she was going to be at his door any minute forcing him to have to look into those beautiful eyes and not have an absolute breakdown.

He was busy deciding between continuing to stare at the clock waiting for her arrival and calling her again when the wrap of knuckles on his door sounded through the apartment. He sprinted to the door, took a second to compose himself and opened it to greet his fate.

“Wow”

She was in a little navy dress that hugged her hips and cut deep down her chest, revealing freckled collarbones to match freckled knees. Was it bad that those knees almost brought him to his? Of course Miss Dana Scully didn't wear little black dresses. She had a little navy dress that matched all of her navy pants and was just as sexy and somehow even more alluring. His eyes followed her freckles from her clavicle to her shoulder and up her neck like connect-the-dots and yet again he looked into the eyes of an angle, noting how the deep blue of her dress made them look even more piercing. She broke his gaze to stare down at herself with an embarrassed blush and smooth the front of her dress.

“Come in. Please.” He stepped aside and her strappy heels clicked into his apartment. He fought every brain cell telling him to drink in her figure from behind. He was a selfish bastard but later tonight he’ll remember her walking through his door in that little navy dress and dream that it was just for him, not for some high-school friend’s wedding 20 minutes away in Alexandria.  

“So…” She took a careful look at the room and he suddenly remembered she used to live here. She touched the counter top like she was familiar with the dust that had settled there. Something in her eyes looked almost sad, like she was reconnecting with an old friend. “I like what you've done with the place.”

“Thanks. It’s a great apartment. I was lucky to get it.” She grimaced and it dawned on him why he happened to be so lucky, her having moved out halfway through her lease with the landlord practically begging him to pick it up. He shoved his hands in his pockets like maybe that would stop him from saying something stupid. She hummed and looked up at him expectantly.

“Oh right. Package.” He almost forgot why she was actually in his apartment.

He heard her chuckle as he walked into the kitchen to grab the box from behind the counter. It was significantly heavier than the last time. If it was clothes it was some diamond studded platform boots by the weight of it. He found her staring at the fish when he returned.

“This is heavy. You want my help with taking it down to your car?” He couldn’t help himself.

“Actually, under normal circumstances I would say I can handle it, but these heels aren’t exactly made for transporting boxes of baby food.” She laughed again and he tried to hide his shocked expression.

“Baby food?” She recognized his confused gaze and explained.

“It’s for my sister. She likes to order her baby food in bulk because apparently they don’t sell it in non-organic grocery stores. She must have used my account by accident and they sent it here.”

He really was a lucky son of a bitch.

He gestured towards the door and she walked first, him following her with the package in his arms. They boarded the elevator together and it was just goddamn unfair how those heels made her the perfect height so that if he glanced over he could see straight down that little navy dress of hers. Unfair.

She clicked her way off the elevator and dutifully he followed her to the parking deck. She popped her trunk open and he plopped the case of organic baby food in.

“Well, I think I finally changed all my accounts to my new address, so hopefully this problem gets solved” She must have seen his face fall because she blushed again. “Thank you for all your help Fox.”

“Mulder. I even made my parents call me Mulder. Hated my first name. Hope that's not too strange” He doesn’t know why he was telling her, if she was going to exit his life after today. Maybe the dress had truth-inducing powers.

“Mulder.” She tasted his name like a cherry on top of a sunday, the way that would leave a red stain on her lips like the lipstick she had on now. The way that dress was cut made him think that she was the kind of girl that could secretly tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue. “It’s certainly not weird. Being a doctor I get called Scully most hours of the day.”

Dr. Dana Scully . It fit her perfectly.

“Well Dr. Scully, Dr. Mulder is always ready to be your personal mailman.” Her eyebrow quirked up, obviously impressed with the title.

“M.D?” she questioned like a judge running a trial.

“PhD in Psychology. Oxford University.” He stood up a little taller. She smirked.

“Impressive. Although I would be careful calling yourself a doctor unless you can complete a surgery with a Myers-Brigs test” Her eyes lit up when she challenged him. He was more than willing to submit to her.

“Nah I’ll leave the surgeries to your…” He grabbed her wrist and her eyes widened, “capable hands”. If pedestrians were not there to bump them together, he figured fate wouldn’t mind if he gave it a helping hand. The energy between them was palpable.  

Psychology may not complete surgeries, but it did give him the ability to peg Dr. Dana Scully down to a tee. If he had to guess, she went to undergrad somewhere close to home, but went far away for medical school, probably the best school she could get into. She gets the buttoned up look and her quick pace from a military background, probably her father. A gold cross like the moon in a sky of stars on her chest said she was religious, likely from childhood. But that low-cut dress and strappy heels made him think there were many many layers under the stiff exterior.

“Where did you go to school?” he released her hand and tried to inhale without giving away the fact that he’d barely taken a breath while she was in his grip.

“University of Maryland for my bachelors, then Stanford for medical school. Impressed?”

She licked her lips and he wanted to peel back every layer of her, including that tantalizing dress of hers.

“Very.”

“Well Dr. Mulder, I need to head to the ceremony.” It was goodbye again and he hated every second of it. Now or never.  

“Listen, Dr. Scully . If you're ever in D.C again, you should give me a call. I would really like to take you to dinner some time.”

He wanted to bottle the grin she shot back at him. The color of her blush should be sold on every makeup counter because it was the perfect shade. Everything about her made him fall harder and faster.

“I just might take you up on that. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to some of the good restaurants around here.”

“I’ll take you to your favorite” He’d take her to a dumpster behind a pizzeria if that's what she wanted. Just to get to see her again.

Her phone rang and she answered, a voice through the phone likely asking her where she was, as she responded with “I’m just leaving, I’ll be there in 20.” She sighed and hung up, then looked back up at him again with a small smile.

“Enjoy your wedding.”

“I will. Goodbye Mulder.”

“Bye Scully.”

He walked on air back to his apartment.

#the x files #The X Files Fanfic #txf fanfic #txf #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #msr #msr fanfic #msr au #sam writes

[phoenix-angel-suyari]

I’m having a really rough day and I can’t even drink.

I don’t even know where to start...

So, I think I’m just gonna bullet point this bitch. 

- On Monday, I missed my therapy appointment which I only get once every 2-3 weeks and never seem to be long enough at anywhere from 20-40 minutes per session depending upon my therapist’s availability. There’s a LOT wrong with my therapy situation, but at the moment I’m honestly, seriously lucky to be able to have therapy at all in the first place. So as much as it sucks, at the very least I am receiving mental health care and that’s all that matters. 

However, my missed therapy appointment was not my fault. The night before I was called by the office in regards to my appointment and the coming storm. I was offered a rescheduled in person or a telehealth appointment. Now, as much as I despise the telehealth appointments - entirely because of my living situation - as rare as my appointments can be, semi-consistent therapy has caused me to sort of NEED them. I never get around to actually talking about what I need or want to talk about, but just venting some things is helpful so I opted for the telehealth appointment instead. I was told my appointment had been turned into a telehealth and would retain it’s time slot. 

The next morning, I made sure I was awake and prepared. Nine o’clock came. No phone call. So, I waited. Ten o’clock came. No phone call. By eleven, I thought, I’d make brunch (I only eat twice a day) because I needed to take my medication. By twelve, I figured, I’d go shovel because the snow was coming down by the foot. My therapist called while I was shoveling and was told I was unavailable. She said she’d call back at 1. So I finished up, took a quick shower to get warm and waited. I ended up waiting all day and she never called back. 

I’d assumed initially when time was going by and she wasn’t calling that perhaps I had been the only one who opted for telehealth and she’d misread an email that had let her know she essentially had the day free. I still don’t know what happened there, but I am hoping it doesn’t count as some sort of strike against me (the hospital has a three strikes and they drop you situation) because it was NOT my fault. 

Regardless, now it’s gonna be over a month between when I last spoke to my therapist and when I next speak to my therapist. And honestly, the only saving grace is that I will be seeing my Psychiatrist on Tuesday and she’ll listen to me and I can cry in her office if I need to then. 

- I’m smack dab in the middle of a mid life crisis and I’ve been struggling with it. I know I’d still be where I am if not for covid, but I still can’t help like feeling as if covid has made me lose valuable time I will never get back and which I am quickly running out of to turn my life around. 

This has not been aided at all by a slew of strange but not disturbing, just confusing as hell dreams, and my family being my family. 

- Speaking of my family...

Yesterday, some of us who have been tested recently and/or already finished receiving both doses of vaccination got together for the first time in a year. And it was nice. Enjoyable. I couldn’t really drink because my new meds really do not mesh well with alcohol - which I tested safely at home and learned the hard way. 

Now, it’s important to note that my sister has been pressuring me to open an OnlyFans because in her opinion it’s something easy I can do to make money and it makes no sense for me not to. (We’re not going to get into these “discussions” held previously, only know there have been way more than there should be.) 

So, we’re talking and I point out that everyone sitting around the table is married already and so they at least don’t have to worry about finding someone in all this mess, as it drags on longer and longer. I finally caved and after years of just letting them come at me while not bothering to ever do any work like introducing me to someone they thought I might get along with, I confronted them about it. I was like, “Look, everyone seems to forget they met their spouses through someone else INTRODUCING them. So, if you know someone who’s single and looking for long term - marriage and a family - then please, feel free to hook me up.” 

I was then told - rather seriously - that I should go on a tv show. I - rightly so - pointed out that I didn’t trust shows like that to set me up with anyone because they’re all about the drama and why should I even have to go on tv for something like that. My sister then proceeded to tell everyone how she thought I should open an OnlyFans. Instead of being surprised or anything by this, my family proceeded to spend the next hour trying to convince me to do something I don’t want to do. They basically laid it all out in a start to finish establishing a fan base and getting a patreon to crowdfund the basics for an OnlyFans. They worked out and tried to sell me on content I could offer and when I countered, “Even if I wanted to - which I DON’T - explain to me how the hell I’m supposed to do any of that in THAT house.” The answer being that it was entirely possible. I just had to figure it out. 

My sister said, “You do it like you do when you exercise.” And like when I WHAT?! I’m not ALLOWED to exercise. It “makes too much noise” and invites derision. Which I then have to suffer through. She then proceeded to inform me that I could always establish a career as a Sugar baby. “You don’t even have to have sex with them, you just have to dress pretty and make them feel important.” Can I do the second one? Absolutely. The first is not possible. We argued about it and she was like, “It works! My friend did it in college and she got an apartment and everything!” And I countered that even though there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s a LIFESTYLE and it’s most lucrative for people in their twenties, not someone like me. Which apparently, is an excuse? Because I need an excuse to object to something I fucking objected to when I was IN my twenties. 

So, anyway, I learned that my family seems to enjoy my singleness as a source of conversation, if not entertainment, but which is somehow fulfilling for them because even when I come right out and fucking ASK THEM to HELP ME find someone, it somehow becomes that I don’t need a someone when I can be a camgirl instead. 

I even pointed out that I could make JUST AS MUCH with a cute dog whom I could make an entire social media platform for and was told in like the most what the fuck moment of the evening, “With what money?!” Like, are you fucking SERIOUS?! There was a whole conversation detailing and planning how to get me to be a camgirl and we can’t figure out a fucking DOG?!

I am so fucking done with all of it.    

- I was feeling really sick last night when I got home, like I might throw up and so I just took a shower and went to bed. But, because I did that, I never took any of my meds last night - which is when I take the bulk of them - and my body is just NOT HAVING IT. 

- For some reason my family wanted to have a dog movie marathon today that like, I enjoy those movies, but they’re emotional as fuck for me and I was already not feeling okay, and then wanted to subject me to that. I watched like half an hour of one and then left. 

- I’m not even getting into the dinner fiasco. 

I took a fucking swan dive into a depressive oubliette and the only thing I can hope for is that taking my meds tonight will give me the protective boost enough to not be completely lost tomorrow. I have now learned the hard way that my explanation to my doctors about how my anti-depressants are like doing the brunt of the work to make me capable of daily life without a complete mental breakdown is in fact not a handy analogy. I have learned my lesson. I will not be missing a dose again. 

I’ve never been a smoker but my god, could I use a cigarette right now. 

I did receive some good news this week at least. My liver’s finally healed. I’m gonna have to be on medication for the rest of my life to ensure that, but that’s one organ that forgave me at least. 

I’m going back to sleep. 

#my life #my family